


A Tale of Two Boys

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-30 09:30:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 55,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's bad enough that Kurt even has to take an English class (<i>hello</i>, he's majoring in fashion merchandising, <i>not</i> literature), but things gets infinitely worse when he ends up accidentally hitting on the professor. Never mind that he actually starts falling for him, too.<br/><br/><b>THIS WORK IS UNFINISHED. IT HAS BEEN DISCONTINUED.</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Imagine Them Naked

Kurt really doesn't want to take Introduction to English, but it covers one of his general eds and knocks out a writing requirement. It's also apparently a really hard class to get into, and he  _almost_  feels bad about taking the spot away from an honest-to-god English major. Almost.

He's normally one of those people that sits right in front, but it's the first day and he has absolutely no idea what to expect. The professor had seemed nice enough in his introduction email—the same threats about showing up for classes the first week or getting dropped, making sure you bring the reading materials to class, and then some personal things about coffee and oldies movies—but he could very well be one of those evil ones that likes to put students on the spot on the first day.

Kurt really,  _really_  hopes there isn't some sort of cripplingly humiliating ice breaker.

He moves to snag an center seat in the lecture hall (halfway down—not close enough that he'll be question fodder, but not far enough away that it seems like he doesn't  _care_ ), early enough that there aren't that many people and Kurt really has his pick.

That's when Kurt sees him; he's smack dab in the center of the room, bent over a book so that he looks like a mass of dark curls in a charcoal grey cardigan scrunched up to his elbows. Kurt figures he's either a hipster or possibly homeless; it's really hard to tell sometimes. He almost passes the row by completely when Mr. Hipster lifts his arms in a stretch— _hello arms_ —and Kurt can catch a decent view of his face. Ridiculous glasses and a beard, but the beard is covering a rather remarkable jawline and—well, Kurt's never really been a  _facial hair_  kind of person, but there's a first for everything, right?

It's not like he has to tell anyone.

He's sidling down the row of chairs before he's even thinking about it, and plops down two rows from the Bearded Stranger. Crossing his legs, he sets his bag in the seat beside him—the room is big enough that no one should need to sit there, and it will hopefully prevent people from walking past him and stepping on his boots. Kurt starts taking things out of his bag, and if he happens to drop his pen and need to lean down, he might as well check out what book his classmate is reading, right?

(It would be a good excuse to start a conversation with a handsome stranger).

It's  _Frankenstein_ , one of the books on their syllabus.

 _Dammit. Fucking overachiever_.

They don't even have to read it for another two months.

Kurt sits up so quickly, he forgets the fact that he has a pen gripped loosely between his fingers—that is, until it's swinging from his grip and rolling straight into a black oxford. Well, at least mystery guy has good taste in footwear.

Kurt doesn't move, body poised in this awkward sort of half-bend from when he'd started to re-reach for his pen. He watches as the guy folds his book (Kurt would use the word  _reverently_ , and instantly assumes his neighbor is an English major) and then leans down to pick up Kurt's pen.

"Sorry," Kurt says before fingers even close fully around the black casing. "I guess I was being a little overzealous with my school supplies."

"First day of class, it happens."

If the beard had been enough to intrigue Kurt (and seriously,  _so weird_ , not even Brad Pitt is attractive with a beard), the smile that is now directed towards Kurt is like a sucker punch to the gut, and behind the glasses there are hazel eyes that sparkle from beneath gorgeous eyelashes (that Kurt simultaneously admires and is ridiculously jealous of). A part of him realizes that his mouth is kind of open, so he snaps it shut and hopes Hot Stranger doesn't notice.

"Crashing?" He asks as he hands Kurt his pen; their fingertips brush as Kurt reaches to take it.

"Oh, no, I'm enrolled, I just—"  _was trying to see what book you were reading so I could start a conversation with you, but apparently throwing a pen at you is just as effective_ , "—am a little nervous. Like you said, first day of class."

"Why, have you heard bad things about the professor?" He frowns, his strangely endearing eyebrows furrowing low beneath the top frame of his glasses.

"Oh, no! From his email, the professor sounds great, I'm just… Not an English major. It's a little intimidating." Kurt doesn't know why he's admitting this, but it'd be nice to have a friend in class. Especially an English major friend—not that Kurt sucks at English, but he might suck at English if this particular student was interested in tutoring him.

The stranger leans in and Kurt sort of wants to reach out and pet his face—he's never known anyone with a beard before and he wonders what it would feel like. He doesn't, though, because that would be weird and boundary crossing. Maybe they'll get drunk together one time and Kurt will have an excuse for asking him something so ridiculous. But he probably should not be planning their friendship that far in advance.

"Just remember that everyone's a little bit intimidated—even the professor. It should help," he shares, like a secret.

Kurt isn't sure what possesses him to say it, but he responds with, "Or I can follow the advice of every major motion picture and just picture everyone in their underwear."

The stranger splutters in surprise, his face suddenly heating up, and Kurt realizes he was just sort of flirting with a guy who probably isn't gay. At all.  _Fuck_.

"Even the professor?"

Kurt shrugs, looking towards the front of the lecture hall and realizing that the seats are starting to fill out. Shouldn't the professor be there?

"If it helps. And especially if he's hot."

Kurt winces, casting a glance at the guy and seeing him pull self-consciously at the scoop neck of his shirt. It looks soft.  _I really need to stop thinking about petting this guy_.

"Sorry," Kurt blurts, and the guy turns back to look at him. "I—"  _forgot that my sexuality can make people uncomfortable and thought I'd left that behind in the midwest_ , "—forgot that comments like that don't go over well with… With everyone." Kurt bites his lip in thought. "Then again, I'd probably feel uncomfortable if anyone told me they were picturing me in my underwear, too." The thought of it makes Kurt uncross and recross his legs—he almost goes so far as to wrap his arms around himself before remembering that no human actually possesses x-ray vision.

"What's your name?"

That isn't exactly what Kurt had been expecting—he'd thought maybe radio silence would have happened as the boy turned back to his book and avoided Kurt for the rest of the semester. It's a welcome change of events.

"Kurt."

"Well, Kurt, I don't—don't apologize. No harm, no foul, right?"

Kurt smiles, wiggling his shoulders a bit.

"Right." He glances down, and then looks up again. "I'm glad I didn't just blow a shot at a possible friendship, then." Kurt looks at him slyly. "At least with an English buff like you by my side, I won't stick out too badly."  _Oh god, was that too much?_

There's whispering springing up all around them and, this time when Kurt looks at his phone, he realizes it's a few minutes past when the lecture is supposed to start. Their professor still isn't there?

"Well, next time, just stick your head in a novel." The stranger taps his book for emphasis. "You'll fit right in." He glances down at his watch then, and then looks at Kurt apologetically. "Now, if you'll excuse me…"

Kurt blinks in surprise—it just sounds so formal—and is then even more surprised when he stands up. Kurt realizes then that he has nothing with him but that singular book, and deliberates offering to lend him a pen if it means they'll have to talk to one another again. He thinks for a minute that the stranger is just going to leave without so much as giving Kurt a name (or a phone number, whatever), but he just stands up and then puts his fingers in his mouth, whistling so loudly that everyone in the hall is immediately shutting up and looking in his direction. Kurt immediately sinks lower in his seat.

"Sorry about that," the stranger calls over the quiet. "I lost track of time. Hello and welcome to Introduction to English—I'm Professor Anderson."

Kurt immediately hopes the floor will swallow him.

Not only was he just flirting with his professor, but Kurt told him he'd be imagining him  _naked_.


	2. Office Hours

Kurt tells himself he’s going to drop the class.

After all, he spends the entire lecture looking at Professor Anderson’s feet, doesn’t offer any answers (even when he knows them and no one else seems to), and he leaves so fast that he trips over himself and several other people. By the time he gets back to his dorm room, he’s fairly sure he’s never been more humiliated in his entire life.

But his mouse hovers over the ‘DROP’ option, and he can’t make himself click it. Because, yes, he’s so embarrassed his skin will possibly be this shade of red for the next week, but dropping would be the cowardly thing to do. He’s an  _adult_. He’ll be _twenty_  in the spring, and he shouldn’t run away.

He won’t run away.

After all, he did nothing wrong—well, he’d  _flirted_  with his  _professor_ , but it’s not like he’d known it was his professor! What kind of professor looks like he was pulled off the street and mingles in with his students like that?

Kurt shuts his laptop and thinks,  _I can do this. I can totally do this_.

 

*

Maybe he can’t do this.

Normally, the second day of class is the day he moves confidently to the front and doesn’t have to worry about any boot-traipsing. But sitting in the front means being on the same exact level as Professor Anderson, and possibly looking at him in the eye, and while Kurt isn’t running away from the situation, he really doesn’t want to aggravate it anymore than he has to.

He never sits in the back, but this time he does, coming in right before class starts and snagging one of the last aisle seats. Kurt is almost always early, and he likes to be seen as one of those students by his professors, but… Well, Kurt is pretty sure this professor already has a solid opinion of him.

Professor Anderson is already there, and he’s certainly a little more difficult to see from the back—but it’s not that large of a lecture hall, and Kurt had sat close enough two days before that he’ll never forget the color of Professor Anderson’s eyes.

 _No, forget right now, don’t think about them at all_.

Except the professor looks… Different. He’s still wearing the same overlarge glasses (which must actually be functional, rather than ironic), but the beard is gone. As is the wild mass of curls that had originally drawn Kurt’s attention; Professor Anderson’s hair is gelled within an inch of its life, and the abuse of product makes Kurt wince. Doesn’t he know anything about hair care?

 _Most straight men don’t_.

He knows that Finn’s idea of hair care is to brush his fingers through it in the morning and to shower every three days. Kurt shudders.

The longer that Kurt looks at Professor Anderson (and doesn’t think about how he’s looking, or what he  _told_  his professor he would do when he was looking), the more different he seems. If it wasn’t for the glasses (and the smile, and how can Kurt see that fucking smile from the back of the room?), Kurt would be positive he was looking at an entirely different teacher.

It would be a relief, because that would mean the guy from the first day of class was a student playing a prank. Then Kurt wouldn’t have to feel so embarrassed over flirting with him—then again, he’s always been kind of a fail of a flirt. Maybe he hadn’t even noticed.

At least Kurt didn’t touch him.

“Alright, let’s get started!”

With that, any hopes of it being a different professor are completely dashed—it’s Professor Anderson, Kurt can tell by his voice alone. He’s bouncing with energy at the front of the class and—dear  _god_ —he’s wearing a  _bow tie_. How is it even possible that this guy is the same one from the first lecture?

“In case you forgot who I am, I’m Professor Anderson and I teach this class. And before you say anything—yes, I’m aware I clean up rather well.” He grins at the class, and Kurt slumps a bit in his seat, trying to disappear into the sea of faces.

“I’ll be passing around a sign-in sheet, so be sure to initial near your name—or draw a picture, or write a note, whatever you’d like—so I know you were here today and don’t drop you. We have a bit of a waiting list, and I’d rather get rid of the stragglers before I get into the meat of the course.”

He waits, and Kurt is surprised to actually see a student get up and leave.

“Good, that’s one more seat for someone who cares or needs this class. In fact, don’t be afraid to leave if you want to leave. We did an introduction yesterday, and this is an introduction course, but that doesn’t make it easy. I’m a nice guy, I like to think I’m pretty fair, but this course is designed for English majors.”

His eyes flick around the room and Kurt feels frozen when they land on him.

“Not that I’m kicking out any of you who aren’t English majors—you’re more than welcome here, and I hope to maybe even change your minds by the end of the semester. But I just want you all to know what you’re getting into.”

Kurt isn’t quite sure  _what_  he’s getting into anymore.

*

Nothing happens after that. Professor Anderson doesn’t pick on Kurt in class and, slowly, Kurt feels more confident about moving towards the front of the lecture hall. The class is  _interesting_ , considering it’s an introduction and not even close to a major he’s considering. But it’s obvious early on that Professor Anderson is very passionate about the subject he teaches, and Kurt has taken enough classes to know that a professor can make or break a class.

Kurt still doesn’t offer up answers, and it even starts to become difficult. It’s a large class, but there are very few voices in it, and Kurt is used to being one of those voices. But he’s still afraid of drawing attention to himself, even as he nears the middle of the semester.

That’s when, apparently, his need to not draw attention to himself becomes a problem.

“I know you all have midterms to study for, and I know I’m an amazing professor for giving you an essay—three to five pages, and if you think that’s bad the final is going to be a nightmare.” But Professor Anderson grins anyway. “Also, this being an English class, a fair portion of your grades comes from your essays and projects, but participation is also important.”

How did Kurt forget about his participation grade?

“I’m not the sort of professor who forces people to put themselves out there in front of a room of two hundred people, because I know that can be quite intimidating, so the best thing I can offer for those of you who prefer to observe rather than contribute is to come by my office hours—they’re listed on your syllabus. If you’ve already been by, great! And if they conflict with your schedule, drop me an email and we’ll work something out.”

The rustling of people preparing to leave starts up around him, but he’s not paying attention to it. His eyes are glued to the white board right behind Professor Anderson’s shoulder as he begins to have an internal meltdown.

“Now is a great time to come by, too! I won’t read through your entire rough drafts, but I’d be more than happy to go over outlines or read a sample paragraph, or just talk if you think you’re just that good.” Professor Anderson looks around once before waving his hands. “Alright, go, go. You guys are so restless it’s giving me anxiety. And I do have office hours tomorrow!” He shouts over the clamor. “So please come by! Papers due next Thursday!”

 _Shit shit shit shit_ ** _shit_**.

*

Kurt doesn’t go on Friday. He doesn’t have class, but he doesn’t go, and he spends the entire day working on his homework for his other classes and not thinking about it. He knows he should think about it, or come up with a game plan, or rationalize that his grade is more important than facing an embarrassing situation (it is, he knows it is). But he lasts until Sunday morning, when he finally goes to check his email and the first one is from Professor Anderson, outlining additional office hours on Monday and Tuesday.

It’s like he knows that Kurt is having a crisis about this.

It’s not until lunch time, when he’s sitting down to outline his paper, that he takes a deep breath and decides he’s being ridiculous. Professor Anderson is a professional, and his teacher, and there is no reason Kurt should be so fucking terrified of him.

He checks his schedule, lines it up with the hours Professor Anderson emailed the class, and makes his decision.

Kurt tries to tell himself that he doesn’t hope someone else will be there at that time, but he knows that he does.

*

His last class ends in the early afternoon, and so it’s just after lunchtime when he makes his way to the English department building and puts on the front he has grown up perfecting. Never mind that he’s a bundle of nerves and anxiety on the inside, he keeps himself perfectly poised. He takes a few deep, calming breaths in the elevator, adjusts his bag on his shoulder, and walks into the hallway with his chin in the air.

The English building is eerily quiet—not like it’s a rare occurrence, but as if it’s always this way. It’s a strange contrast to the fashion department, which is always full of noise and movement and people rushing around one another. Kurt passes by a small study area, where a few students are curled up with books and reading.

It’s possibly more peaceful than the library.

Professor Anderson’s office is near the end of the hall, door ajar and signified by a shiny brass plaque that reads  _B. ANDERSON_. Kurt wonders what the  _B_  stands for. The door is peppered in pieces of paper—a few flyers, but mostly quotes, printed on different scraps of paper and collaged like bits of wisdom.

_“Poetry makes life what lights and music do the stage.” - Charles Dickens_

Kurt can’t stop himself from smiling, at least until he realizes what the quotes are layered over; the door is  _covered_  in playbills. Kurt’s mouth falls open a little bit, his eyes flicking over them—Broadway productions, off-Broadway, community theater, campus performances, and everything in between.

It’s the first time Kurt really thinks of Professor Anderson as someone besides an educator, as someone with a life and interests that stretch beyond the college campus. Sure, there’d been a glimpse of it that very first day (a very inaccurate glimpse, but it had still been there), but that had slowly dissolved as the class had carried on.

Before he realizes he’s doing it, he’s leaning forward to run his fingers over a  _Wicked_ playbill, and the door inches forward with an audible creak.

“Hello?”

Well, he certainly hadn’t meant for that to happen; generally he’s one for much more elegant entrances. Kurt closes his eyes again, reapplies his game face, and knocks briskly on the door twice before pushing it open and poking his head in.

“Uh, hi.”

Professor Anderson is seated at his desk, laptop open and glasses hanging on the tip of his nose. Kurt’s eyes immediately scan the office—standard, with a bookshelf that is stuffed to capacity, a bulletin board covered in more playbills and quotes, and a potted plant—before snapping back to his professor.

“Kurt!” His face lights up in a look that Kurt has seen dozens of times now, and it’s still so strange to see him this close after he’s spent so long keeping his distance. Still, Kurt tries not to think about how he put that look on Professor Anderson’s face.

Then he realizes that Professor Anderson addressed him by his name.

“You remember my name.”

Despite being vocal in many of his classes, Kurt is pretty certain most of his professors don’t remember his name. He’s spoken to Professor Anderson once and, okay, it was a strange way to meet his professor, but it’s been six weeks since then and Kurt hasn’t said a word in the interim.

“Of course I do,” Professor Anderson responds, eyebrows furrowing a bit, almost as if he’s insulted. Kurt wants to point out that he has just over two hundred people in his Intro to English class  _alone_  (Kurt wonders, briefly, what other classes he’s possibly teaching) and he can’t possibly know all of their names.

Does he remember Kurt because he’s the student who’d said he’d imagine him naked?

Professor Anderson gestures to one of the chairs facing his desk, and Kurt gives a weak smile before moving into one as he asks, “So how can I help you today?”

Kurt busies himself pulling out his binder for the class, and then setting it on his lap.

“Well, I thought maybe I could have you take a look at my outline for the midterm—”

“I shouldn’t be so surprised when people come in here for actual curricular help, but here you are.” Professor Anderson grins at him. “Although you’re probably wasting your time; your poetry analysis was excellent.”

Kurt gapes a little bit and then blushes, before lifting his chin and preening slightly; he should make a point of coming to office hours more soon if they’re this good of an ego boost.

“Thank you. I mean, I’m not an English major—”

“I remember.”

This would be a lot easier if Professor Anderson stopped referring to  _The Incident_.

Kurt fumbles slightly, swallows, and keeps going.

“So it means a lot that you think that.”

“Well, praise given where praise is deserved. You should consider taking more classes, though, if you’re interested. You have a knack for it.” Professor Anderson smiles at him again, and Kurt’s heart flutters in his chest.

“Or this is you trying to convert me into an English major.”

He holds up his hands in defeat and grins.

“You got me. But I do mean it; your persuasive argument skills are impressive, and I think you could do amazing things if you worked on them.”

Kurt is not thinking about becoming an English major—he is  _not_.

“Now.” Professor Anderson claps his hands, startling Kurt out of his moment of flightiness. “I believe we’re discussing a rough draft.” He beckons Kurt closer, and Kurt scoots the chair forward until his knees are pressed up against the wood of the desk.

“Outline, but.” Kurt shrugs, opening his binder and then sliding the assignment forward. Professor Anderson reaches for it before Kurt can pull his hand away, and, when their fingertips brush, Kurt pulls back as if his hand has just been slapped.

Professor Anderson stares at him strangely, before folding his hands on the desk and tilting his head.

“Are you okay?”

Kurt just nods.

“If you’re not, you can tell me—ah, I realize I’m just a stranger, but if you’re uncomfortable in anyway—”

_Aren’t you uncomfortable? Didn’t I make you uncomfortable? How are you acting so normal when I feel like I can’t even look you in the eye?_

“I’m really sorry!” Kurt blurts without thinking, right in the middle of whatever Professor Anderson had been saying. He stops, mouth open, and then closes it, surveying Kurt with confusion. “I’m—the first day of class, I just—I’m really,  _really_ sorry about that.”

Professor Anderson blinks at him for a moment, and then laughs. Kurt feels a flare of anger, but clamps down on it—after all, this is his professor, and he’s behaved inappropriately enough times.

“You don’t need to apologize, Kurt—after all, it was my fault. I do that on the first day of class at the beginning of every semester. Things have been a lot worse.” Kurt wishes he’d elaborate, but he’s fairly certain he won’t. “I should be apologizing, if anything. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Kurt isn’t quite sure what to say. He doesn’t want to delve into details, because he doesn’t want Professor Anderson to ask the questions he’s afraid of answering ( _so did you decide I’m hot enough to imagine naked?_  the answer to which is  _yes_ ). So he just mumbles something noncommittal, pushes the binder with his fingers, and then folds his hands in his lap.

Is that really it? Six weeks of agonizing over this, of stopping himself from participating, and Professor Anderson just brushes it off and apologizes to him?

“Kurt.”

His eyes fly up—he’s still unused to Professor Anderson saying his name. When Kurt meets his eyes, they’re soft and apologetic.

“I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I always get nervous before my classes, and I try to scope out my students beforehand. And, well, yes, the shock is always fun, too, but that’s all I generally go for—shock value. But trust me, talking to you was very enlightening.” His mouth opens, and then closes again, and the words tumble out of his mouth: “I mean, because you aren’t an English major, and I’m always very interested in non-English majors who take English courses, that’s—that’s all I meant by that.”

“Right…” Kurt says, and he’s still fidgeting, and he knows that Professor Anderson can tell.

“How about we just go back to talking about your assignment, okay? That’s safe ground, right?”

Kurt can’t help but laugh a little bit, and Professor Anderson looks relieved. He pushes his glasses up his nose in a subconscious sort of way, an then turns Kurt’s binder towards him, eyebrows immediately lifting.

“You aren’t doing  _Metamorphosis_.”

Kurt’s eyebrows furrow.

“Is that… Bad?” They’d studied the short story in class, and while Kurt has nothing against Kafka, he’s not overly fond of him, either.

“No, no, it’s wonderful. I’ve just seen about fifty outlines already all focused around _Metamorphosis_ , so I’m glad you’re doing something different.” He smiles at Kurt again over the paper. “So  _The Necklace?_  Any particular reason why?”

Kurt shrugs, looking away and picking at the strap of his bag.

“I suppose I identify with Mathilde in a way—I know it wasn’t one of the assigned readings, but you said it was okay if we did other short stories for our papers, and the name caught my attention and then I read it and really enjoyed it, so—”

“Kurt, Kurt, calm down. I’m glad.”

Kurt breathes.

“It’s great when a student takes the initiative like that, and it’s better for me as the person grading it. It’s easy to pick a story we did together in class, because it’s like having a trail of breadcrumbs to the answers. But you didn’t take the easy way out, and I have to commend you for that.” Professor Anderson picks up a pen, and Kurt can’t help but notice that, rather than red, it’s purple.

“Also, I hope you don’t have too much in common with Mathilde—I’m sure you’re garnering enough debt with your student loans, you don’t need to be working off a diamond necklace.”

“Oh, please, I could tell paste stones from real ones in a second,” Kurt scoffs, and he’s rewarded with Professor Anderson chuckling.

“ _Take nothing on its looks; take everything on evidence. There’s no better rule_ ,” Professor Anderson mutters, and then his pen pauses and he glances up, looking sheepish. “Sorry, I’m a bit of a Dickens nut.”

“I couldn’t tell,” Kurt replies, eyebrows raised, before giving a significant nod towards the door, and then Professor Anderson laughs again. It falls silent, and Kurt realizes how nerve-wrecking it is to sit there and have his professor read all of his arguments and ideas before he’s had a chance to fine tune them. It’s the same kind of feeling he gets right before an audition, except more muted, hitting him in a slow burn kind of way. Audition nerves tend to burn out before circling back to casting announcements and callbacks, but Professor Anderson isn’t going to hand back his outline and send him on his way. They’ll talk about it, discuss it, make it  _better_ ; Kurt wishes auditions were that thorough.

“Hmm, okay.” Professor Anderson looks up, and Kurt tenses, waiting for the shoe to drop. “I think that your argument is very well thought out—you certainly know how to use the text to your advantage. Your thesis is a little weak and, I think, a little predictable. I mean, one of the surface lessons in  _The Necklace_  is that things aren’t what they seem, and to be careful what you wish for, and this is an intro class so I’m not going to tell you those are  _bad_  arguments, just…”

“Easy ones?” Kurt finishes, mouth a little grim.

“Like I said, these are good topics, but I’d be a horrible professor if I didn’t try to push you, Kurt. If we had more time—the paper is due on Thursday, after all—I would push you more to look past those initial glimpses of the text and find a deeper meaning there.”

“You know, I have to ask,” Kurt starts, sitting a little taller, mind still reeling over the _weak thesis_  and  _predictable argument_  comments, “you’re an English professor, so don’t people always tell you that maybe the author just meant exactly what the text says?”

Professor Anderson grins and nods, and then his look softens.

“It isn’t so much about what the author meant, you know. I mean, yes, in some things the lessons or symbols seem purposeful and are easy to pick out, but it says a lot about a reader, and how they think and see the world, based on what they see in a story. People give a lot of credit to the writers, but they always forget the reader.”

Kurt gapes at him for a minute, and then Professor Anderson flushes, running fingers through the sides of his (still overly styled) hair.

“Sorry, that’s my personal opinion. Many professors would disagree with me—”

“You’re a really good professor,” Kurt says, without thinking. Professor Anderson looks up at him, blinking in surprise. “I-I mean it. I know I’m not an English major—”

“What is your major?”

Oh. Kurt hadn’t realized he’d never said.

“Fashion. Anyway, I’ve taken a lot of classes, and they sound fun on paper but then they just… Fall flat. And, no offense to the course, I mean, I don’t think you designed it, but it doesn’t seem enthralling in a course description, but then—you really make that class, Professor Anderson.”

He looks down at his desk, as if unsure what to say, and then slides Kurt’s notebook—closed—back towards him.

“That’s all a teacher ever wants to hear.”

Kurt’s been looking at this man teach for six weeks, and it’s only just now, in this moment, that it’s occurring to him how much he’s falling in love with his smile.

“Anyway, unless you have anymore questions…?” Professor Anderson tilts his head, and Kurt shakes his head—and thus shakes himself from his thoughts.

“Oh, no, that’s all, but… Thank you.”

“And thank you for coming in. You’re a good student, Kurt. I’d hate to dock you points for not participating.”

Kurt looks down, embarrassed, but then sets a smile on his face.

“Well, I’ll be sure to participate much more the second half of the semester, Professor.”

“I look forward to it.”


	3. Almost

Kurt can try to place the blame on anyone else, but he knows it's really his own fault. Then again, his philosophy professor just _had_ to go and make an eight page paper due _Wednesday afternoon_ , and Kurt could have gone shopping over the weekend or done his paper. Really, the paper comes out on top every time; when would he have gone shopping?

 _Anytime before then_.

He's a Thanksgiving veteran at this point, and he _knows_ how grocery stores can be the day before Thanksgiving.

And yet here he is, elbowing people at the local supermarket so that he can have something resembling a Thanksgiving dinner.

Kurt's just pushed past a rather frantic looking woman to grab one of the last bags of (pre-washed, pre-cleaned) green beans, when he sees _him_ —approximately fifteen foot to his right and browsing the salads-in-a-bag is none other than Professor Anderson. It's been months now, since the initial incident, and a good chunk of time since they had (for lack of better terminology) righted their wrongs. Kurt had done amazingly well on their midterm-paper and had progressively started moving to the front of the class. Only a few weeks left in the semester and he's in the second row, speaking up in class and no longer holding back his answers.

Even if it is still a little much when Professor Anderson turns those eyes on him, or smiles at him, or acknowledges Kurt's existence in anyway. And yeah, _okay_ , it's all in an academic, encouraging way—it doesn't mean it doesn't make Kurt's stomach get all tight and flippy.

Which is exactly what it's doing now, except _now_ Kurt and Professor Anderson aren't in a classroom or office hours setting and _how exactly are they supposed to interact?_

It takes someone trying to pry the green beans from his suddenly limp hands that jars Kurt back to awareness, and he jerks hard and glares at the middle-aged woman with the bad dye job who had tried to take them from him.

There's no reason to freak out. It's a busy grocery store, Kurt only needs a few more things, and chances are Professor Anderson won't see him and they won't have to… Do whatever students and teachers who run into each other outside of school _do_.

Armed with potatoes and vegetables (among other Thanksgiving necessities), Kurt hurries away from the produce and hopes that there's still pumpkin filling left.

There is, but only the giant cans, and Kurt has no need for _two_ pies, but Thanksgiving without pumpkin pie? He bites the bullet.

The absolute last thing on his list is cranberry sauce, and Kurt almost just skips it because what are the chances of him actually finding any? Better chances than if he was at Thanksgiving a day later, but still not _great_ chances.

As luck might have it (and luck has been Kurt Hummel's friend today, dear _god_ ), there are still a few cans left.

Kurt makes a grab for it, at the same time that someone else's hand closes over it.

And then, _and then_ , lady luck decides to be a total backstabbing bitch, because _of course_ the hand belongs to Professor Anderson.

"Oh, sorry, I—Kurt!"

It's the little things in life, but at least Professor Anderson looks as completely caught off guard as Kurt feels (and Kurt had at least a ten minute heads up).

"Hi… Professor Anderson."

Wow, it is possibly more awkward than Kurt thought it would be.

"Hello." Professor Anderson is looking at him as if he's grown an additional head. "Um, how are you?"

He must realize how strange of a question it is at the same time that Kurt does—they'd seen each other in class only the day before.

"Good, just—" Kurt realizes they're both still holding onto the can of cranberry sauce, so he jiggles it around and Professor Anderson draws back like a startled animal. In fact, "startled animal" might be the best description for seeing a teacher out of school. "Just some last minute shopping." Kurt drops the can into his basket, and Professor Anderson grabs for one of the remaining ones.

"Same." He smiles, unsurely, and Kurt smiles unsurely back ( _most awkward conversation, most awkward interaction, ever_ ). "I didn't know you were from around here."

Oh great. Small talk.

"Oh, I'm—I'm not." Kurt looks down at his basket, at his frozen turkey and potatoes and pathetic little Thanksgiving dinner. "I'm from Ohio."

"Ohio?" There's a strange note of interest in Professor Anderson's voice, but he doesn't expand on it (and Kurt doesn't know how to ask). "I don't think that turkey's going to survive four hour flight."

"Good thing it doesn't have to, then." It's hard enough to explain the situation to his friends, but to have to explain it to a professor? "I'm staying here for the holiday." Professor Anderson's eyebrows raise in surprise. "Me and some of the other stragglers put together a Thanksgiving, so…" Kurt shrugs, wishing that the conversation would end, they'd part ways, and Kurt could spend the next four days trying to get over the whole interaction.

"You aren't spending Thanksgiving with your family?"

Kurt bites his lip.

"It was… Thanksgiving or Christmas. My family can't afford both."

Professor Anderson seems to realize his faux pas immediately, his polite interest melting into a look of unpleasant shock. It actually makes Kurt feel a little bad, but it's not like he could have avoided it—after all, he was just answering the questions.

"I'm sorry."

Kurt shrugs it off, because it's not like as if he can say, "it's okay," or, "I'm fine." Because it really isn't okay, and he's _not_ fine. It's his second year playing this game, and it doesn't get any easier.

"Well, I suppose that makes two of us, then."

Kurt blinks up at Professor Anderson—he's dressed more casually than he dares to dress in class, and Kurt is reminded of that very first day he'd entered that English class. His hair is still pretty heavily gelled, but his glasses hang on the tip of his nose and Kurt wonders how inappropriate it would be to push them up.

"What?"

"I won't be spending the holiday with my family, either." Professor Anderson just smiles, and Kurt can't help but think that this is a trade up of information—he'd learned something personal about Kurt completely by accident, and now he's offering information about himself willingly. _Personal_ information. It makes Kurt shift his weight and fiddle with his shirt sleeve, unsure of how to react. "But that's really more by choice than necessity."

He's still smiling, but it isn't the sort of smile that catches Kurt off guard and makes him lose his place in a conversation. It's not forced, either, it's… Kurt isn't quite sure how to describe it, but he knows he doesn't like it.

There's an, "I'm sorry," on the tip of Kurt's tongue, but he swallows it down—after all, what is he apologizing for?

"Then it seems we're both facing a holiday alone." As soon as Kurt says it, it feels like the wrong thing to say. What is he _doing?_ With anyone else, it would sound like— _fuck_. Kurt is _not_ flirting with his professor again, he is _not_. "Do you have any plans for your long weekend?"

 _Stop, stop it right now, stop talking. Apparently your filter is broken, you need to_ ** _stop_** _talking_.

Because apparently Kurt cannot open his mouth without spontaneously _flirting_ with Professor Anderson. He wants to lift his basket and hide behind it.

"After a lackluster Thanksgiving dinner, I have every intention of spending the weekend going through outlines for my seminar class."

…wow, he didn't run for the hills.

"That sounds…" Kurt rolls words around in his mouth and then laughs. "Honestly, that sounds awful, I'm sorry." Professor Anderson grins.

"It will be, but…" He shrugs, and Kurt bites his lip to keep from smiling. It feels strange, how it went from the most awkward experience of Kurt's _life_ to something perfectly normal. Well, maybe not _perfectly_ normal, but certainly something a lot… Easier. "Anyways, I hate to keep you from your…" Professor Anderson gestures at Kurt's shopping basket.

"Same."

There's another awkward moment, the sort that comes when you have to say goodbye to someone you don't know particularly well, but who isn't exactly a stranger. It's mixed with another moment—a question hangs in the air, unasked, held up by the fact that Kurt and his professor both have long, empty, boring weekends ahead of them.

Neither of them move to address it, and how would it ever be something that _could_ be addressed?

"See you in class next week, professor." Kurt dips his head in a sort of goodbye, watching as something registers on Professor Anderson's face and then settles his expression into something different—something more guarded. Kurt doesn't quite understand it, but pushes the thought to the back of his mind.

"Have a good holiday, Kurt."

And Professor Anderson walks back towards the dairy section, and Kurt checks over his list in his head as he walks towards the registers. It isn't an unusual exchange, but Kurt doesn't think he'll forget it anytime soon.


	4. Epiphanies

"Kurt, can I see you for a moment?"

Kurt looks up from packing his bag, looking around himself, but none of the other students are even acknowledging the fact that Professor Anderson has singled him out. Suddenly, he feels nervous. Their final papers are due _in a week_ , and Kurt has been working on his, but it's been a hard balance with all of his other classes and projects. Whoever decided that finals should be a thing is the epitome of evil.

"You wanted to speak with me, professor?" Kurt winces, because obviously that's what Mr. Anderson wants—it's only been thirty seconds since he asked. But he just smiles at Kurt, gathering his own things into his (rather stylish) laptop bag.

"Do you have anywhere you need to be, Kurt?"

 _The library._ Not out of obligation, but because Kurt knows he needs to study. But he shakes his head and smiles.

"Nothing that can't wait. This is my last class today."

Professor Anderson grins, and then shoulders his bag and beckons Kurt to follow him.

"If you don't mind, I'd rather have this conversation in my office." He holds the door of the lecture hall open, and Kurt swallows heavily as he walks outside. It's not exactly cold, not the way winter is supposed to be—when the wind isn't blowing, the sun is still warm, and it sort of reminds Kurt of what fall is supposed to be like.

"Is… This about my paper?" He asks, hesitantly, knotting his scarf closer to his throat as he walks one step behind his professor.

"Your…? No, of course not. We already talked about your outline a few days ago, and I thought the argument you wanted to make looked very strong." Professor Anderson glances at him, glasses slipping down his nose. "Unless you've changed that and this should be about your paper?"

"Oh, no, I… I'm nearly finished with it, actually." Having one page written isn't exactly being nearly finished, but Kurt is nothing if not a perfectionist.

"Well, I look forward to reading it."

Pride trills up Kurt's spine, and he lifts his chin despite himself.

The English building isn't too far from where Professor Anderson holds his class, but the short walk is still that sort of awkward uncomfortable that Kurt isn't quite sure how to fill. He almost starts talking about the weather, but then Professor Anderson is holding another door open (and _wow_ , talk about being a gentleman) and they're inside.

The elevator ride is even more awkward silence.

Outside of his office, Professor Anderson digs around for his keys, and Kurt is left to examine his door once more. Not much has changed since he was there a few days ago, but it's open more often than not when Kurt drops by and he doesn't get as many chances to look at it.

_Any man may be in good spirits and good temper when he's well dressed. - Charles Dickens_

Kurt can't help but giggle, and Professor Anderson pulls out his keys victoriously and then glances over at him with raised, questioning eyebrows.

"You're quite a Charles Dickens fan, aren't you?" Kurt gestures at the door just before Professor Anderson swings it open, and he smiles sheepishly.

"I think the more correct term would be _obsessive nut_ , but I guess I could thank you for putting it so lightly." Again, he holds the door open for Kurt, and then shuts it behind them. Kurt feels a new wave of nerves wash over him. "I'm actually a little infamous for it, but at least it always guarantees me the focus seminar."

He settles into his chair, already having taken off his coat and set down his bag, but Kurt is still just standing there on the other side of the desk, ringing his strap between his hands. Professor Anderson makes a gesture to sit, and Kurt folds down almost robotically. He's moments away from chewing his lip off, he can tell.

"Don't look so nervous, Kurt." Professor Anderson smiles at him. "I only didn't discuss this with you in class because I like to be a pretty equal opportunity educator, and this might make it seem like I'm playing favorites."

Kurt's hands fall to the seat of his chair, and he grips tightly at the wood, feeling the edges sharp against his palms and fingers—this isn't what he thinks it is, _is it?_

Professor Anderson pushes up his glasses again, then folds his hands on the desk.

"It took awhile for you to really come out in class, but even before then you were an excellent student. I've heard nothing but good things from your TA, and I love having your voice in class discussions. You always bring something new to the table, and that's an incredible trait, Kurt."

 _If this is what it's like to be propositioned for sex, movies portray it completely incorrectly_.

"I know you're not an English major, but you've shown an incredible understanding of the material and your work ethic is very admirable."

_Are there innuendos in this that I should be understanding?_

"I understand that this may be a little inappropriate, considering your position—"

_Oh god, I didn't think he'd actually do it, oh god, this is going to happen, I can't_ **_breathe_ ** _—_

"But how do you feel about being a grader?" Professor Anderson asks at the same time that Kurt yells, "STOP!"

It's quiet, and Professor Anderson's eyes are large, and confused, and maybe even a little bit scared, as he stares at Kurt. And Kurt, who has pushed back into his chair like a cornered animal, blinks back at him just as owlishly.

"…um, come again?" Kurt asks.

"I… Sometimes professors hire students as graders, through the university. It basically involves helping me correct papers and scoring quizzes and tests, but…" Professor Anderson suddenly looks unsure, and uncomfortable, and Kurt feels incredibly guilty. "If you're not interested, I completely understand."

"Oh, no, it's not that."

"Do you already have a job?"

Kurt certainly wishes, but the closest thing he has to a job is occasionally signing up for studies with the psychology department and occasionally being a note taker.

"No, I don't." Kurt presses his slightly sweaty palms against his denim-clad thighs. "Sorry, about that, I just—" _Thought you were going to proposition me to blow you at your desk_.

… _well, that was vivid_.

"I just wasn't sure what to expect. You were being a little cryptic."

Professor Anderson laughs, running his fingers through his gelled hair and ruffling the top of it. It looks fluffier afterwards, reminiscent of how it had looked out of the gel, loose and curly that first day.

"I apologize for that." He leans back in his chair. "So what do you think?"

"Well…" Kurt crosses his legs, folding his hands on his knee. "Can you tell me more about it…?" Kurt's already pretty sure he'll say yes, but he doesn't want to sign up for something he can't possibly do just so he can spend more time with his incredibly attractive professor.

_Stop, stop thinking about that, he's your_ **_professor_ ** _._

"Oh, of course!" Professor Anderson beams, sliding his forearms onto the desk and then leaning over them with a kind of childlike excitement that Kurt wouldn't expect in someone his own age, much less _older_ than him. "I should let you know that you wouldn't be the only grader, and you'd spend most of your time working with them."

 _So much with spending more time with my hot professor. Wait, no, fuck_.

"I have different graders for different classes, of course, but you'd probably start working on assignments from the same class you're in—or other introductory courses, nothing too specific. You'll mostly be grading things like quizzes, or homework, and if you do work on papers, you'll be looking for mainly grammatical and spelling errors, or format issues. Things like that."

It's kind of adorable, watching how much Professor Anderson gets worked up over this.

 _At least adorable is a step down from attractive or hot_.

"It's not an incredible amount of work, but it's ten dollars an hour—"

"Ten dollars an _hour_?" Kurt asks, incredulously, and then blushes as Professor Anderson laughs.

He has a nice laugh.

"It seems like a lot now, but you might hate me a month in when you're finishing up your grading in less than that. Of course, you all keep your own hours and then you'll turn them into Tina—she's my head grader, and she gives them to me. She'll be the one dishing out who does what, but it's generally pretty even."

"How many graders are there?"

"Well, I asked two more people from your class, but I have four right now. So, seven, if all of you accept."

He seems to be done with his elaboration. Really, it sounds like just what Kurt needs. It might not pay more than volunteering in a study, but it's certainly steadier. On top of that, if Kurt ever does find himself with an actual job, it would still be easy to manage this one.

"I think I need to think about it," Kurt says slowly, even though he's already pretty sure of his answer. "But I'm certainly leaning on the yes side of maybe."

"Anything I can do to tilt it in my favor?" Professor Anderson grins. Oh god, if he was ten years younger and not Kurt's teacher, would this be _flirting?_

 _No, no, no. I have been down this road before, I am not going down it again_.

"Maybe stop using up the world's supply of hair gel," Kurt jokes, but then his eyes widen and he nearly slaps a hand over his mouth. He did _not_ just say that. "I… I…"

"Did you just insult my hair?" But Professor Anderson doesn't look insulted; in fact, he seems to find the whole situation incredibly amusing. "You know what they say about picking on the person in charge of your grades."

"…always do it when that person wants something from you?" Kurt tries, smiling uneasily, and Professor Anderson's eyes twinkle in amusement.

"Touché, Mr. Hummel." Professor Anderson reaches on the floor for his bag, and half of his face is glancing over at Kurt. "That's all I was wondering. If you could let me know by next Thursday, though? So I can tell Tina to add you to the email group for next semester?"

Kurt bites his lip, and nods.

"I better get to the library. Finals week starts in a few days, after all."

"And look at you, being a good student and studying early." Professor Anderson smiles, and Kurt's stomach flutters at the compliment.

 _Stop that_.

"See you in class in two days, professor." He stands up, and Professor Anderson gives him a nod, rather than a wave, as a goodbye.

"Last class, don't forget."

Kurt won't. He's never really been sad about a class ending before, and he's looking forward to seeing his family for the holidays, but there's just something about it being the _last class_ that sits ill with him.

 _Probably because I have a crush on the professor_.

He's halfway down the hall when he comes to an abrupt stop, and he looks over his shoulder on the off chance that people can now hear his subconscious when it speaks. But there's no one there, not even any sounds, really, except for what might be someone humming _Last Christmas_.

Kurt doesn't even have to listen very hard to know who it could be, and more importantly, he's having the worst epiphany (or possible break down) right there in the middle of the English department.

 _Oh god, I have a crush on Professor Anderson_.


	5. To and Fro(m)

**From:** bdanderson@english.uca.edu  
 **To:** tinacc@umail.uca.edu, lqfabray@umail.uca.edu, jamesclark@umail.uca.edu, kurthummel@umail.uca.edu, bspokes214@umail.uca.edu, nickduval@umail.uca.edu  
 **Subject:** Grader Information

Hello current and future graders,

I hope your winter breaks are refreshing you for next semester, and that you will all have a good holiday. I know that it's early, but I wanted to catch any of you before you did exciting things with your time off and forgot about your commitment.

We'll be having our first meeting the first week back (I can tell you are all thrilled to be reminded of school again so soon), so please be sure not to double book yourself. If, for whatever reason, you are no longer interested in grading for me next semester, please send me an email as soon as possible to let me know.

If you have any questions, feel free to contact either me or Tina (tinacc@umail.uca.edu).

Happy Holidays!

Professor Blaine D. Anderson  
English Department, University of California

*

 **From:** tinacc@umail.uca.edu  
 **To:** nickduval@umail.uca.edu, kurthummel@umail.uca.edu, bspokes214@umail.uca.edu  
 **Subject:** Hello New Graders!

You have hopefully already received and read Professor Anderson's email, and therefore should know who I am. But in case you don't, I'm Tina, and I will be your boss (and tormentor) for the coming semester.

But Professor A was right! If you have any questions, concerns, or you just want to talk, seeing as we'll be spending quite a bit of time together in the near future, feel free to drop me an email. :)

-Tina

*

 **From:** kurthummel@umail.uca.edu  
 **To:** bdanderson@english.uca.edu, tinacc@umail.uca.edu, lqfabray@umail.uca.edu, jamesclark@umail.uca.edu, bspokes214@umail.uca.edu, nickduval@umail.uca.edu  
 **Subject:** RE: Grader Information

Professor Anderson,

Your email did not mention a time or place for the grader meeting, and I was wondering if that information was available.

Thank you.

Kurt Hummel

*

 **From:** bdanderson@english.uca.edu  
 **To:** tinacc@umail.uca.edu, lqfabray@umail.uca.edu, jamesclark@umail.uca.edu, kurthummel@umail.uca.edu, bspokes214@umail.uca.edu, nickduval@umail.uca.edu  
 **Subject:** RE: RE: Grader Information

Kurt (and everyone else),

A place has yet to be decided. Unfortunately, I won't know if I'm able to rent a classroom until the semester starts. Worst case scenario, all eight of us will squeeze into my office. Nothing says bonding like a lack of personal space!

As for when, I'm hoping to do it sometime in the afternoon. If I end up able to get us a bigger space, however, that timeframe is subject to change.

Thanks for the question. :)

Professor Blaine D. Anderson  
English Department, University of California

*

 **From:** bdanderson@english.uca.edu  
 **To:** kurthummel@umail.uca.edu  
 **Subject:** Your Final Paper  
 _1 Attachment_

Kurt,

I must say I was very impressed with your final paper, and I think your grade is very well deserved. As per your request, I attached your paper with my final comments.

I hope you're enjoying your holiday, and I look forward to seeing you next semester.

Professor Blaine D. Anderson  
English Department, University of California

*

 **From:** kurthummel@umail.uca.edu  
 **To:** bdanderson@english.uca.edu  
 **Subject:** RE: Your Final Paper

Professor Anderson,

Thank you. It really isn't enough to thank you, especially after reading your comments, but there aren't very many ways to express gratitude through an email. I should also thank you for your class in general. I did not have high expectations going into your class, but I'm happy that you superseded them.

I'm not even an English major, but your class is still one of the best I've ever taken.

I hope your holiday is going well, also.

Kurt Hummel

P.S. The television is plagued with different versions of _A Christmas Carol_. I've never thought too hard about the story before, but I have to say I have a newfound appreciation for it. I can only think to thank your enthusiasm over Charles Dickens. It is, apparently, contagious.

*

 **From:** bdanderson@english.uca.edu  
 **To:** kurthummel@umail.uca.edu  
 **Subject:** A Christmas Carol

Kurt,

First, you have no need to thank me. I'm an educator, and I go into every class hoping to teach to the best of my ability and to inspire the students. Knowing I was able to, even with just one student, is gratitude enough for me.

My holiday is going very nicely, thank you. I imagine that yours is much more white than mine, but I'm traveling to see family for Christmas so perhaps I will see snow this holiday season, after all.

Christmas is one of my favorite times of year for that very reason. Personally, I love seeing all of the adaptations, and I love the fact that characters like Mickey Mouse and Fred Flintstone can familiarize even the smallest of children with Dickens. Best to start early.

If you really do have a newfound appreciation, I feel it necessary to tell you that I was offered the focus class on Dickens for next fall. I know you're not an English major, but you should consider taking it. I always feel better about going into a class when I can expect some friendly faces.

Professor Blaine D. Anderson  
English Department, University of California

*

 **From:** tinacc@umail.uca.edu  
 **To:** kurthummel@umail.uca.edu  
 **Subject:** Preferences

Hello Kurt!

I don't know if Professor A went over this with you in the job description, but generally work is split pretty evenly between everyone and we switch up tasks every so often. That being said, there are always people who do better at some things than others. You don't have to reply to this anytime soon, and you might even want to wait until after a few grading sessions, but if you have any preference, let me know!

-Tina

*

 **From:** kurthummel@umail.uca.edu  
 **To:** bdanderson@english.uca.edu  
 **Subject:** RE: A Christmas Carol

Professor Anderson,

I feel the need to assure you that I can't possibly be the only student you inspired.

When I'm in California, I think winter is the thing I miss the most. It's strange enough getting ready for the holidays when there's hardly even rain, let alone snow. I'm happy you'll get a white Christmas. Christmas just doesn't feel right without snow.

You forgot other important characters, like Kermit. I think The Muppet's version of _A Christmas Carol_ is my favorite, although I love watching every Christmas movie I possibly can at this time of year.

I don't know if I'm quite at the level to take a focus class on him, but I have a whole semester to think about it.

Kurt Hummel

*

 **From:** bdanderson@english.uca.edu  
 **To:** kurthummel@umail.uca.edu  
 **Subject:** Merry Christmas!

Kurt,

I'm pleased to tell you that my Christmas was, indeed, white.

Christmas movies do really make the season bright, don't they? It wouldn't be Christmas without them, although I also couldn't survive without Christmas carols.

Is this the sort of thing I could barter for? Or are you going to insult my clothing choices this time?

Professor Blaine D. Anderson  
English Department, University of California

*

 **From:** kurthummel@umail.uca.edu  
 **To:** bdanderson@english.uca.edu  
 **Subject:** RE: Merry Christmas!

Professor Anderson,

Then it would seem that we both had white Christmases.

Christmas carols are certainly another staple of Christmas. You always know it's nearly Christmastime when you can't listen to the radio without hearing a carol.

Professor, are you attempting to bribe me into taking your class? There must be an extreme lack of Dickens enthusiasts at UCA.

And no, I have no trouble with your clothing choices.

Kurt Hummel

P.S. Have a good New Year, and I'll see you back at school!

*

 **From:** tinacc@umail.uca.edu  
 **To:** lqfabray@umail.uca.edu, jamesclark@umail.uca.edu, kurthummel@umail.uca.edu, bspokes214@umail.uca.edu, nickduval@umail.uca.edu  
 **Subject:** Meeting Place  & Time

Hello!

Professor Anderson has just let me know that he managed to snag classroom 2208 in Matthews, which is right next to the library if you've never had a class there before! Meeting starts at 2pm, and there will be snacks provided. :)

So be sure to mark your calendars, and don't be late.

-Tina


	6. Blue House, Yellow Door

" _Hey Kurt, it's Tina. Hopefully you remember that the first grading session is tonight? If not, you should take this as a reminder. Call me back when you can!_ "

Kurt can't help but smile at the sheer _enthusiasm_ in Tina's voice as he pulls his phone away from his ear. Aside from emails, he's only seen her once in person, but tonight will probably change that for the most part. She might be Professor Anderson's head grader, and an English major, but she's in the same year as he is. He may have even seen her around before, but it's hard to spot familiar faces when you tend to sit towards the front of classrooms that are full of hundreds of other students.

He's walking across campus to grab a sandwich from one of the many little food hubs when he redials her number. Kurt has no idea when her classes are, but he'd rather get the information sooner rather than later.

Thankfully, she picks up on the third ring.

"Kurt! Hi," she chirps down the line, and Kurt is more than a little surprised that he's already programmed into her cell phone.

"Hi Tina." He shifts his bag on his shoulder. "I got your message, and, yes, I did remember the first grading session was tonight." A Tuesday night, of all nights, but Kurt figures it's to prevent people from flaking—not that he has a particularly active social life, but he's not about to admit that by readily showing up to grade papers and tests on Fridays and Saturdays.

"Oh, good. I thought you would. Do you have a pen and paper handy?"

Kurt can tell by the backtrack of Tina's voice that she's outside somewhere, possibly walking just as Kurt is. He veers towards a building, balancing his satchel on his thigh and digging through it for one of his notebooks.

"Hold on… Okay. Ready."

"Great. So the address is 2587 Laurel Rd., do you know where that is?"

Kurt writes the address down, frowning slightly.

"About ten blocks from campus, right?" A little far for walking, but there's a reason Kurt practically begged his dad to let him ship his car across the country after his first semester at UCA.

"Yep."

"Apartment number?" Kurt asks, pen still poised.

"Oh, no, it's a house. It's blue, yellow door," Tina explains, her voice getting a bit harried.

"Oh, I didn't know you lived in a house." Kurt knows that some students do that—pitch in and buy one of the many houses scattered nearby. It makes him feel a little silly, still living in the dorms, but Tina just laughs.

"Yeah right, as if I could afford that. No, it's Professor A's house."

 _Well fuck_.

*

Despite the reservations Kurt had ("We're going to his _house?_ " "We always grade at his house." "That's not weird?" "No?"), he pulls to a stop outside a yellow house with a blue door and a warm, inviting light shining out through the front window. It's not like it's a particularly eccentric house—most of the houses in the neighborhood come in a rainbow of colors, and it's just another part of the charm of this area. He's seen purple houses and red houses and once, quite unfortunately, saw one that was alternating neapolitan stripes (who even _does_ that?).

And, of course, Professor Anderson would live somewhere near campus. It makes sense; if you work somewhere, you probably live near there, unless you commute but then you wouldn't exactly be running into your students at supermarkets, now would you?

Kurt takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as his hands flex on his steering wheel. He's being ridiculous—it's not like he's going to go in there and it'll be _just_ him and Professor Anderson ( _Blaine_ , his first name is _Blaine_ , and how inappropriate is it, exactly, for Kurt to refer to him that way in his subconscious?). In fact, Kurt had made sure to get there a little past when he was supposed to, just so that wouldn't be an issue.

Which is stupid. Kurt has a little, insignificant, _nothing_ of a crush. It's not like Professor Anderson _knows_ or would _ever_ take advantage of him.

 _Stop freaking out and go inside. This is your job, he is your teacher, that's_ ** _it_**.

He takes another settling breath, just for good measure, and then gets out of his car.

*

The grader group is small.

Aside from himself, there are two other new graders—a girl his age, who's actually an English major, and a freshman boy who has no idea what he wants to major in. With Tina, there's another girl—Quinn—a year above them, and one more boy (strangely enough, a photography major). They round out to an even six, three boys, three girls, and then there's Professor Anderson, of course.

"As awesome as it is to have all of us together," Tina says—because it might be Professor Anderson's house, but _Tina_ is definitely the one running the meeting, "this isn't a obligatory thing in the future. You can do your grading wherever and whenever you want, as long as you meet all your deadlines."

Kurt feels relieved—he's felt antsy since the moment Professor Anderson answered the door, and _god_ , he was dressed so casually that Kurt is once more reminded of the person he hit on that first day in class.

"But, in case you have shitty roommates or you have the attention span of a rabbit, Professor A has been nice enough to let us grade here every Tuesday if we need to."

"She bribed me," he says from his wingback chair in the corner—of-fucking-course he'd have a wingback chair—and a few of them laugh.

"So now  the reason we're _really_ here." She grins, and heaves a box up onto the coffee table. They'd been given their specific jobs at the last meeting, and Kurt wasn't all that surprised that he ended up with the exact job Professor Anderson said he would—grading for his introductory English class. Already he can't remember much from that first week (at least, nothing of _relevance_ ), but apparently there was a grammar quiz because that's exactly what Tina is handing him. It's a thicker stack than Kurt realized it would be, but, then again, there had been over two hundred people in his own class. He stares at the pile morosely, already dreading the first time he has to do essay corrections.

"In the future, we won't be doing this to hand things out. You'll get an email from either me or Professor A, and you just need to stop by his office and pick up your next stack. When you're finished—these assignments, included—just drop them in his box or at his office."

"And don't be scared of me," Professor Anderson pipes up from the corner. "If you're having trouble with something, if something is unclear to you for any reason, just shoot me an email or come by and see me. Many of you might be familiar with how much office hours _suck_ for professors, so _please_. Visit me. I'm bored. I promise. There's only so many times I can play Temple Run."

There's more laughter, and Kurt cracks a smile.

"And yet he still sucks at it," Quinn teases, and Professor Anderson frowns at her. Kurt can't even imagine feeling that comfortable around him—then again, he's probably the only one who feels like he might melt inside his own skin just being around him.

Kurt had thought he'd gotten over the whole _stupid crushes_ phase.

"Also, Quinn, Jamie, and I wanted to sort of… Welcome you to our little club." Tina looks over at Quinn, who rolls her eyes.

"It's really lame, so don't get too excited."

They're pens, which, yeah, _is_ pretty lame, but it makes sense. They all get a different color, and Kurt is lucky enough to pick first—pink, green, purple, and he decides to go with the purple. After that, it's just a matter of actually doing the job. Kurt knows that's essentially why any of them are even there, and it's kind of intimidating the way things suddenly go so quiet as people get to work.

He doesn't really know any of the other graders—the only person he's really talked to is Tina, but she has her head bent low with Quinn and Jamie and they're talking quietly. Kurt can't even remember the other newbies' names, but they're already focused, no doubt wanting to make a good impression.

Kurt pulls his knees up onto the chair, lying the paper flat against his thighs, and clicks his pen as he pulls out the key. Quizzes aren't so hard to grade after all, right?

"You look confused."

Kurt nearly flicks his pen up into his face when he startles, but manages to tense his hand around it just in time. He looks up, and Professor Anderson is standing there, smiling his too-charming and friendly smile that makes Kurt feel kind of giggly.

"I think this is all just…" Kurt gestures around himself with the pen. "It's new."

"You'll adjust," Professor Anderson replies earnestly, and Kurt nods back slowly.

"I know. I normally do." He lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "But thanks for the vote of confidence."

"What kind of teacher would I be if I didn't have confidence in my students?"

"Well, I'm not exactly your student anymore, so you really don't need to act like a teacher." Kurt feels his cheeks flare as soon as he's said it, but—no, _no_ , Professor Anderson has absolutely no idea. He doesn't know what's been going on in Kurt's head, and Kurt's heart, for the past month or so. This is just… Friendly banter. It's not flirting, and it's not Kurt _suggesting_ anything.

Even if it sort of is.

"I'm still hoping to change that," Professor Anderson continues, as if Kurt just said something completely normal (and, to anyone else, it probably did sound completely normal). "No chance I can convince you to sign up for my Dickens seminar?"

"You really won't let that go, will you?" Kurt looks down at the quiz on the top of the pile, eyes flicking over the grammar corrections so he doesn't think too hard about the conversation he's having. "You know, I'm _not_ an English major. And at the rate you're pursuing this, it's like you want me to become one." _Or maybe you like spending time with me?_

No. Kurt needs to not go down that road.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Professor Anderson responds, seemingly affronted. "I'm definitely pushing for a minor."

Kurt can't help himself—he laughs, eyebrows raising as he draws a purple line through an improperly labeled gerund.

"Oh, yes, that's not bad at all." His grin is wry when he glances back up at his professor. "You know, I'm a little surprised you don't have a Dickens shrine in your house. Surprised, and disappointed."

"I obviously keep my shrine in my bedroom, Kurt. I can't just let anyone see it."

_Would you let me?_

It takes a lot to not visibly wince at his own mind's horrible thought process, and so he does what he can to stare back down at the paper and concentrate.

Maybe this was a really bad, horrible idea—not that he'd known when he'd agreed that, oh, right, Professor Anderson makes him _swoon_ … But he could have backed out at any time. Maybe he should have. Maybe that would have been the right, smart, sensible thing to do.

Except maybe Kurt isn't as right, smart, or sensible as he once thought. Something he will never, _ever_ admit to anyone.

A hand lands on his shoulder, and Kurt jolts, looking back up at Professor Anderson's grin.

"Let me know if you have any questions, alright?"

Kurt presses his lips together, nods, and, with a light squeeze, Professor Anderson is gone and moving over to speak to the girl-whose-name-Kurt-can't-remember. Kurt stares after him, fighting the urge to reach up and touch his shoulder. That wasn't anything, right? Just a friendly, good natured gesture?

He shakes his head a bit, regaining his bearings (and his senses) and turning back to his work. It's silly, _he's_ being silly. It was just a touch to his shoulder.

But that doesn't stop Kurt from watching Professor Anderson throughout the rest of the night.

That doesn't stop Kurt from noticing that Professor Anderson doesn't touch anyone else's shoulder.

That doesn't stop Kurt from wondering when a touch to his _shoulder_ became such a big deal.


	7. Personal

_"Hello, you've reached Kurt Hummel. I am currently unavailable, but leave your name and number and I will return your call."_

"Hey Kurt! It's Tina. Just reminding you that we're meeting again at Professor A's house tomorrow to hand out everyone's stacks. Let me know if you can't make it."

*

_"Hello, you've reached Kurt Hummel. I am currently unavailable, but leave your name and number and I will return your call."_

"Hi Kurt, it's Quinn. It's a little past seven o'clock, and we haven't heard from you yet. It's okay if you can't make it tonight, but please be sure to arrange a time to pick them up with Professor Anderson or one of us, okay? Hope you're doing well."

*

 **From:** tinacc@umail.uca.edu  
 **To:** kurthummel@umail.uca.edu  
 **Subject:** Hello?

Hi Kurt,

I don't mean to push, but it's been a few days, and you haven't contacted either Quinn, Jamie, or myself, and Professor A said he hasn't heard from you either. It's okay if you're sick or have assignments of your own, but please let us know so that we can allocate your work to someone else.

Hope everything is okay. :(

-Tina

*

 **From:** kurthummel@umail.uca.edu  
 **To:** hsmith@history.uca.edu, alsimone@design.uca.edu, patrickson@design.uca.edu, vvanders@music.uca.edu, etjones@umail.uca.edu, rbadams@umail.uca.edu  
 **Subject:** Unable to Attend Lectures and Sections

Professors and TAs,

I apologize for the mass email, but you may have noticed my lack of attendance in class this week. There has been a family emergency, and I have been rushed home to Ohio. Please let me know if it is acceptable for me to turn in my assignments electronically, and if there is anything I can do to make up the attendance points.

Thank you.

Kurt Hummel

*

 **From:** tinacc@umail.uca.edu  
 **To:** bdanderson@english.uca.edu, lqfabray@umail.uca.edu, jamesclark@umail.uca.edu  
 **Subject:** FWD: My Absence

Hey you guys, I just got this e-mail from Kurt and I thought I'd share it with you all. :(

> Hi Tina,
> 
> I'm sorry for my sudden drop in contact. There was a family emergency late Sunday night, and I was on the first flight back home. I don't know when I'll be back yet, so if it's not too much trouble, would someone mind horribly doing my share of the work? I can't exactly grade quizzes in Ohio.
> 
> Again, I'm sorry I didn't get in contact with you sooner.
> 
> Kurt Hummel

*

 **To:** kurthummel@umail.uca.edu  
 **From:** blaine.anderson@gmail.com  
 **Subject:** (No Subject)

Hi Kurt,

I hope I'm not overstepping in sending you this email, but Tina shared with me and the other head graders where you've been and it felt wrong not to contact you personally. I obviously don't know what you're going through at the moment, and I'm sure you have family and friends who are there for you and easier to talk to than some random professor. But if you do need the ear of someone not involved, I'm happy to listen.

This is my personal email, but feel free to use it.

Blaine Anderson

*

 **To:** blaine.anderson@gmail.com  
 **From:** kurthummel@gmail.com  
 **Subject:** Thank you

Professor Anderson,

Thank you. It actually means quite a lot that you want to listen to some student you had for a few weeks. But I'm fine.

Kurt Hummel

P.S. A personal for a personal, not that it's incredibly different from my academic email address.

*

 **To:** kurthummel@gmail.com  
 **From:** blaine.anderson@gmail.com  
 **Subject:** RE: Thank you

Kurt,

You're welcome, but you should know that you're not just some student. We may not have spent a lot of time together, Kurt, but I do consider you as a friend. Again, I hope I'm not overstepping in assuming so.

Fine or not, the offer still stands, if you do want to talk about it.

Blaine Anderson


	8. Lines and Boundaries

Kurt is in Ohio for two weeks before his dad convinces him to go back to school. In reality, it's two weeks Kurt could never afford to take off to begin with, but… Well, there are some things in life that are more important than school.

All of his professors and TAs are incredibly understanding about it—he's given a few extra credit assignments (essays, outings, and basically things that will eat up the remainder of Kurt's free time) to make up for all the classes he's missed, and he'd been smart enough to do the essays and sketches and anything else that had been due. All in all, he's pretty on top of everything even with a two week absence.

Well, almost everything.

Kurt shifts his weight from foot to foot outside the English building, holding the strap of his bag so tightly in his hands it kind of hurts. He'd contacted Tina as soon as he was back, and she'd told him to go and talk to Professor Anderson _directly_. Which shouldn't be such a big deal, but… Kurt bites his lip.

But nothing. He's over thinking things, like always. So Professor Anderson said he considered Kurt has a friend—he probably considers Tina, and Quinn, and Jamie, and all the other graders friends, too. Just because he'd shown some concern doesn't mean anything. Nothing at all.

…so why does Kurt feel so nervous?

He licks his lips, steels himself, and then walks into the building with his chin lifted slightly into the air. It's _just_ Professor Anderson. It's just Kurt going to pick up his work and then leaving, there's really no reason to get so fucking _worked up_ over it.

Except… Kurt presses the button for the elevator. Except that, Professor Anderson's offer has been ringing in his head since it was made. Kurt hasn't really talked to anyone about what happened—Tina had seemed worried, and willing to offer a friendly ear, but Kurt's hardly known her a _month_. Rachel had been sympathetic, and Carole and Finn had been there for him, but… It's different. They hadn't wanted to _talk_ about it, they'd wanted to comfort him. And maybe Kurt just really needs to talk about it to clear up the heavy lump he's been carrying around in his throat.

Professor Anderson's door looks the same as ever, except that it's closed and— _fuck_ , Kurt had just _gone_ there without even trying to figure out his new office hours. Again, it shouldn't be a big deal, but Kurt isn't sure when he'll be able to muster the courage to come this far again. Kurt rolls his shoulders back, raising his fist to knock, and resisting the urge to close his eyes until it's over.

His knuckles are pressed to paper and wood one second, and the next the door is open and Professor Anderson is _right there_. He looks scruffier than the last time Kurt saw him, hair still too-gelled but sticking up in some places like he's been running his hands through it. His glasses are sliding down his nose and Kurt really, _really_ just wants to push them back up with the tip of his finger.

"Kurt!" Professor Anderson's face splits in a smile, and he pulls open the door, ushering Kurt in. "Come in, come in."

Kurt doesn't even say anything, just walking in and hearing the door shut behind him. It all feels robotic, as he sits down in the chair he's visited a few times before.

"Tina mentioned you'd be coming to see me sometime this week."

Kurt resists the urge to cringe, knowing that he's been intentionally putting it off.

"I hope things haven't been too hectic for you?" Professor Anderson settles down behind his desk, neatly rolling the sleeves of his cardigan up to his elbows. Kurt tries not to watch.

"Um, yeah. Yes. My professors have been really great about everything." It feels stilted and awkward, so Kurt tacks on a smile (no doubt also awkward) which Professor Anderson returns much more naturally.

"Great. I just have a writing exercise and a couple quizzes for you—Brynn and Nick split everything else." Professor Anderson turns in his chair and begins rooting around on the shelves behind him, and Kurt wrings his hands in his lap. The lump in his throat seems to be working higher and higher, and Kurt has the urge to just grab his stacks and run away before he vomits all over the desk in front of him. Running is a lot less humiliating than throwing up.

"Kurt?"

His eyes flash upwards, and Professor Anderson is looking at him, concern etched onto his kind face.

"Are you alright?" His voice is softer than it usually is, and Kurt fiddles his thumbs, staring down at his lap. There's a _thunk_ noise, and, when Kurt looks up again, Professor Anderson is leaning on his desk, all his attention focused on Kurt.

"I—" Kurt flounders, and then presses his lips together, averting his gaze.

"Kurt." Their eyes meet again. "I meant what I said before. If you want to talk about what happened, I'm more than happy to listen."

_But why does it feel so hard to say?_

Kurt has the urge to curl in on himself, the way he used to all the time when he was little—the way he still does, when things become too much. But he's sitting in his professor's office, in a chair that hardly accommodates something like that, and he's already so… So _young_. How young must he look to Professor Anderson?

"…when I was a sophomore in high school, my dad had a heart attack." Kurt's whispering, he can't help it, eyes focused on his hands and not on the face watching him. "He was… Unconscious for awhile, and I was… I lost my mom when I was eight, and he was all I had left. It's… It was before he got remarried, before we had Carole and Finn."

It was a darker time, when everything in life was harder, and there's still a dull ache when he thinks about how lonely he'd felt back then.

"He came out of it. Had to change his diet, not work so hard, went to the doctor more often…" Kurt picks at his nails to keep himself from pulling at the seams of his jeans. "We all thought he was in the clear, and then…" Kurt swallows. "I get a call from my stepmom, telling me that he's had another one, that… That they're on the way to the _hospital_ , that Finn is already booking me a ticket home."

Kurt's lips quirk, even with the sudden pressure building in his eyes. He blinks it back.

"It was… Was more severe this time. He had to go into surgery, was unconscious for a few more days… In the hospital days after that." And Kurt stayed with him, as often as he could and as often as he'd let them. It was… Easier, and harder, with Carole and Finn there. Easier, because Kurt didn't have to be alone, but harder because, well, he'd still felt alone through it all.

"I have Carole and Finn, and I love them, but. It's always been my dad and me, always, and it always will be. He's the most important person in my life, and I just. They know, they do, it's why they flew me home when I couldn't even go for _Thanksgiving_. And, god, I didn't want to come home, didn't want to leave him, but… They're paying a lot of money for me to go to school here, for me to chase my dreams, and the whole time I was home, my dad just kept asking me about school and…" Kurt can't help but laugh, and he wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand to catch the few tears that are knocked loose. "And it's ridiculous, it is. I've fought so hard to get out of Ohio my whole life, my dad wouldn't even hear about me staying a second longer than I had to."

"It sounds like you and your dad are… Incredibly close."

Professor Anderson's voice startles Kurt out of his reverie, and, for the first time since he started talking, he raises his head until he meets his professor's gaze across the desk.

"Yeah… Yeah, we… We've had our differences, and our rough patches, but. He's always been there for me, looked out for me… Even when no one else has." Kurt swallows—even if the lump has broken up, his throat still feels thick. He tried so hard not to cry before, tried so hard to be strong and keep it together, but now it feels like every tear he held back is trying to rush out at once.

Their eyes hold for a few seconds longer, and then Kurt is blinking, feeling the wetness against his eyelashes, and he looks down again, air rushing past his lips as he fights to keep the tears at bay.

Then, there's the noise of a chair sliding across the linoleum floor, and then Professor Anderson is standing beside him. Kurt turns his head, looking up in surprise, afraid what he'll see in his professor's eyes. But all he sees is a moment of uncertainty, gone just as fast as it was there, and then Professor Anderson is leaning down and hugging him.

Kurt's entire body goes rigid as arms wrap around him, strong, warm, and solid around his back. His face is cushioned in the soft cotton of Professor Anderson's cardigan, and his eyes flutter shut at the scent of cologne—and that's all it takes, before Kurt is hugging back, holding so tightly that he might as well be clinging. He feels his shoulders shake, and he gasps deep breaths against Professor Anderson's shoulder to keep himself from falling apart completely.

"Thank you for telling me," Professor Anderson whispers, his hands splayed and rubbing up and down Kurt's back, shooting warmth through his layers. Kurt wishes he wasn't sitting down, wishes that it was a real, proper, chest-to-chest, full-body hug. But it's still perfect, and still exactly what Kurt seems to need. Professor Anderson smells faintly of laundry detergent, and, past that, a hundred scents that Kurt couldn't begin to really describe right. It settles into his memory, but, more importantly, calms him down. Mixed with the comforting, soothing movement of the hand gliding over the curve of his spine, and the soft murmurs against Kurt's temple, it helps him put himself back together again.

The second his shoulders stop shaking and his breathing starts to even out, it ends—too quickly, Professor Anderson stepping back so fast it nearly gives Kurt whiplash. He feels daed, blinking at the empty spot that was just filled with the indigo shade of Professor Anderson's blazer.

He's standing a few feet away, looking… Strangely flustered, tucking his hands behind his back and avoiding his gaze.

"I'm… Sorry, that was inappropriate." Professor Anderson clears his throat, and Kurt feels frozen, unsure of what to do or say. He watches as Professor Anderson shuffles around, reaching for a folder and then setting it down on the desk. He seems jittery, like he's had too much coffee, tapping fingers against the back of his desk chair rather than sitting in it.

Kurt feels a tightness in his chest—should he not have done that? Did he go too far?—and then Professor Anderson is looking at him again, and his body stills slightly, eyes softening.

"Again, I'm sorry for that." Professor Anderson leans on his chair. "I didn't mean to cross any lines, really, I—"

"You didn't," Kurt finds himself saying, and immediately wants to bash his head against a wall. He might as well _admit_ that he has a huge, debilitating crush on him. "I… It's really what I needed, I think." Kurt feels his face heat up, and then looks away. "Thank you for listening."

"Any time."

Kurt glances back, and Professor Anderson smiles hesitantly.

"Really. If you ever need to talk, Kurt, I'm here for you, okay?"

Kurt bites his lip, but nods. He feels like he's laid so much of himself bare, feels _raw_ with it really, that he can't imagine doing it too often. But… It helped. Whether it was the talking, or the hug that Kurt will now compare every hug to, it helped.

"Thank you, Professor."

Professor Anderson opens his mouth, closes it, and then fidgets, looking hesitant.

"You know, I'm not really your professor anymore." Kurt watches the way Professor Anderson's throat bobs as he swallows, and then snaps his eyes back up to his face. "You can call me Blaine."

A trill of shock shoots through Kurt, and he gapes slightly—there's this feeling of excitement, something like _joy_ even, sparking inside of him, and he has to fight to keep himself from laughing and grinning and doing other ridiculous things.

So he tempers his smile, keeping it small and slightly shy.

"Well, then. Thank you… Blaine."


	9. Far Too Late

Kurt feels as if he's only a few study sessions short of _losing_ it.

It's midterm season, and the workload in all of his classes has gotten simultaneously heavier as he's "prepared" for essay exams and practical demonstrations and only _one_ scantron exam (because his professors _hate_ him). Every time he walks into his dorm room, he gives the stack of blue books on his desk a good glare, and then goes to review his textile flashcards.

Generally Kurt keeps it pretty together around this time in the semester, but it's the first time he's _also_ had a job. His classes loading up on their coursework means that Professor Anderson is doing the same thing in his classes (seriously, professors are _evil_ ), which means that Kurt is grading papers and quizzes and annotated bibliographies in between his own classes and studying.

In a way, it's good for him to be this busy. He hasn't had as much time to think about everything else in his life because school has blocked everything else out.

His dad is recovering, and Kurt calls him every single day, even if they only talk for a few minutes. It's difficult, but he can manage a short conversation when he's walking to or from the dining hall.

Kurt hasn't really seen Professor Anderson since the visit to his office. And Kurt has to stop himself, screw his eyes shut, and think, _Blaine_. But he can't seem to make his mind cooperate. There's something about calling him by his first name that feels simultaneously strange and wonderful, and Kurt finds himself bouncing back and forth between the two more often than not.

Then there's the hug, and remembering the way Blaine's—Professor Anderson's—hair had been sticking up in places, the way his glasses kept sliding down his nose, and the soft, understanding look in his eyes. Kurt isn't sure if anyone has ever looked at him that way, or hugged him like that. His dad has hugged him, and Finn has hugged him, and girls hug him all the time, but—Blaine is different.

And Kurt knows why.

 _It was just a hug_ , he tells himself as he highlights through his reader. _He was concerned and he hugged you because you needed a hug. It didn't mean anything_.

_Except he told me to call him Blaine._

_He hugged me and told him to call him Blaine._

_That's not normal, is it?_

_No, no, no. It is normal, you're over thinking this. It was just a hug._

_Fuck, I can't remember if that's made from flax._

*

By Tuesday, Kurt resolves that if he doesn't do something other than study, he might start murdering people due to a mix of stress and pure aggravation. He's gone to the grading nights since he got back, but it's one thing to be in Professor Anderson's— _Blaine's_ , fuck, he really needs to make up his mind—house with other people than to actually interact with him. Normally, _Blaine_ leaves them to their devices, and, lately, it's turned into more of a social get together with a side of actual academia going on.

He needs a social distraction right now, even if it's only for an hour or two. Besides, he might actually finish all of his grading, and then it will be one less thing for him to worry about.

Spring break is _so close_ , he can taste it. He's not going home—after the impromptu flight back to Ohio for a week, his family definitely can't afford it—but it's okay. After all, California is a nicer place to spend his break than _Ohio_. Even if Kurt isn't a fan of the beach.

Humming, he walks up to Blaine's door, adjusting the strap on his bag and stamping down any residual nerves he has. After all, this is basically hanging out with Tina, and she's more likely to answer the door than the man who actually _lives_ here. Kurt reprimands himself for being ridiculous, and then rings the bell.

Of course, on this particular occasion, Blaine _does_ answer the door, and he looks about as surprised to see Kurt as Kurt does to see him.

He's dressed down, more casual than Kurt has _ever_ seen him—he's wearing sweatpants, for the _love of god_. His hair is messier than it ever is, and his scruff is dark again, like he hasn't shaved in a few days. He's wearing a dark t-shirt and his glasses, and there's a pen tucked behind his ear.

It shouldn't be as attractive as it is.

"Kurt." Blaine's eyebrows shoot up. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"You are?" Kurt didn't think his avoiding had been _that_ noticeable. "I mean, it's Tuesday…" He twists his wrist in the air, as if the insinuation of what he's trying to say is clear enough.

"Oh!" Blaine's eyebrows stay high on his forehead. "Grading, right. I didn't think anyone was actually coming, what with midterms so close." Kurt watches his eyebrows furrow. "I'm pretty sure they're all cramming."

So no one is there. It's just Blaine, dressed as if he's been lounging— _don't think about that_ —and Kurt has just _shown up_. He should have texted Tina, or called her, or emailed her. Better yet, shouldn't she have sent one to _him_ telling him that there was no grading tonight? His fingers twist in frustration on the strap of his bag.

"Shouldn't you be studying?" Blaine dips his head, and Kurt has the feeling he's being teased—he bristles.

"I've been studying for the past _week_ already. I don't procrastinate." He tilts his chin into the air.

"The model student." Blaine says it more with admiration than mocking. "When professors design their syllabi, it's with your work ethic in mind."

Kurt feels strangely flustered, and he glances away. What does he do now? Does he apologize for disrupting whatever Blaine (and it seems like he's sticking with _Blaine_ more and more now) was doing and then leave? God, he dreads the idea of spending another night trapped in his dorm.

"Did… You want to come in?"

Kurt blinks at Blaine, owlishly.

"After all, you came all this way, and Tina did say that you could grade here on Tuesdays if you needed to."

It's not that far, really—it wouldn't be a big inconvenience to just turn around and go back. But he did leave to get away from studying, and the four walls of his room closing in around him. So what if it's just him and Blaine? It doesn't have to be _weird_. Right?

So the last time they were alone, there was a possibly line-crossing hug.

It meant nothing.

_Right?_

Blaine steps back, gesturing inside, and Kurt ducks his head and moves past him. The house is quieter than Kurt's ever heard it, the lights in the living room on but dimmer than he's used to.

"Bad roommate?" Blaine asks, as he shuts the door, and the click of the lock sounds incredibly _final_ in Kurt's ear.

"Um, no. I have a single. I just… Studying was driving me a little crazy."

Blaine smiles, small and understanding. They stand there in the entryway, Blaine rocking on his heels.

"So living room?" He asks, and his voice sounds a little strange, but Kurt ignores it.

"Works for me." It's where they usually do grading, even if the dining room table would be more practical.

"I'm making dinner, but um… Yell if you need anything?" He smiles again, quick and almost anxious-like, before he leaves Kurt by himself in the living room.

It's weird. Kurt knows it's weird because it _feels_ super fucking weird. It's one thing to have all six of them here, sharing pizzas and groaning about correcting the same errors over and over again. But this is _just_ Kurt and Blaine, and Blaine is _cooking_ , and it's so _quiet_. Kurt wishes he'd thought to bring headphones, so he could at least drown out the awkward with music.

He settles onto the couch, slipping out of his shoes—because it's what he usually does, and not doing it would be weirder, right? He groans, covering his eyes with his hands. Kurt knows he's being ridiculous.

It was just a hug.

He's just grading papers.

It's this _stupid crush_ that keeps fogging up the important parts of his brain, like _reason_ and _logic_. He's a student, and Blaine is a professor. Even if Kurt's heart ever settles down enough to truly be his friend, that's all they're ever going to be.

*

"You know students hate annotated bibliographies, right?" Kurt looks up from the stack of papers in his lap to where Blaine is leaning in the entryway to the living room with his arms crossed. "It's  busy work."

"No, it's honest work," Blaine corrects. "It let's me know that my students aren't making up sources or throwing together a bibliography at the last minute."

Kurt frowns, because—yeah, okay, he's _done_ it, but he's not proud of it. And he certainly hasn't done it since he graduated high school.

"So you don't check the sources for yourself?" Kurt stares down at the paper.

"You must think I'm a lot stupider than I look if you think I'm telling you _that_."

"Nah, you look just as stupid as I think you are."

Which is to say, Kurt doesn't really think he looks stupid as all. Maybe there are times where something happens and Kurt hardly refrains from rolling his eyes, but the majority of the time, he's sort of too in awe of Blaine to belittle him. Besides, there's the whole glasses and shadows of scruff thing—it fools Kurt into a sense of maturity and intelligence, even if Blaine does seem to have both of those things.

Blaine laughs, though, and Kurt wants to close his eyes and breathe and say, _see? this can be easy, too_.

The silence falls again, but Kurt can still feel Blaine's eyes on him as he notes that someone was an entire source short.

"Kicking me out?" He prompts, when Blaine continues not to say anything.

"What?"

Kurt looks up, watches as Blaine pushes his glasses up his nose with his knuckle.

"No, kind of the opposite really."

Pressing the pen against the stack of papers, sideways and useless, Kurt gives up the pretense of concentrating on his work. _What, exactly, is the opposite of asking me to leave?_ Kurt tries to bully his heart back down into his chest without much success.

"I made dinner." Blaine suddenly looks really nervous. "Have you eaten?"

Kurt stares at him, mouth parting slightly. He hasn't, normally because there's usually food at these things, but he hadn't been expecting anything like _this_.

"Um, no." His mouth feels dry, and his voice comes out a little too breathy, a little too high.

"It's just spaghetti." Blaine lifts one shoulder in a self-deprecating fashion. "Don't get too excited."

Too late. Far, far too late.

*

They eat in the living room, enough room between them on the sofa that Kurt's pretty sure two people could sit there. Blaine brings his work in with him, a stack about a foot high that he drops unceremoniously between them—not a barrier, even if Kurt sort of sees it that way. The spaghetti really isn't anything spectacular, but it's still pretty good. Never mind the fact that _Blane_ is the person who made it, and that probably accounts for most of the reason Kurt enjoys it so much.

"That looks like a lot," Kurt comments casually, twirling the pasta around his fork. Blaine looks over at him, glasses down to the tip of his nose again and a bit of pasta sauce at the corner of his mouth, then looks down at his books.

"Well, contrary to popular belief, midterms isn't exactly a time professors enjoy." He pats the binder on top with the flat of his hand, almost in an affectionate way.

"Well, maybe you should consider not giving them," Kurt suggests, sweetly, even if it has no impact of him. Blaine levels him with a half-amused glare.

"You're lucky, actually," he says, disregarding Kurt's previous statement completely. "If you can recall, I don't give my introduction class a real midterm."

"No, just an essay." Not a hard essay, by any means, but Kurt remembers writing it.

"I think essay finals are like gifts we professors give to students. And you won't have to deal with them until after break, because I extended the deadline."

Because that's the sort of professor Blaine is, and it's kind of wonderful.

"It's no wonder your students love you," Kurt says, warmly, and Blaine looks over at him again, looking a little startled at first before his face splits into a grin.

"Hopefully my early Shakespeare students will still love me after their midterm." Blaine swirls another bite of pasta, and Kurt looks away so he doesn't watch the noodles drag across Blaine's lips like he kind of wants to.

"That bad?"

"In class essays are never fun for anyone."

Kurt winces in sympathy—he has his own to study for, after all.

"…well, that's a lie. It is a little fun to watch people with that expression on their face—you know the one? Like they want to beat their face open with a desk?"

A surprised laugh erupts out of Kurt's chest, and he hides his face in the crook of his elbow to stifle it before looking over at Blaine in amusement—he looks entirely too pleased with himself.

"You're _evil_."

"I take it you're one of those people that make that face, too? Are you also one of those people that starts to sweat profusely as other students finish before you?"

Kurt _just_ stops himself from snorting.

"Is this why you became a professor? So you could mock and torment your students?"

It's a joke, but Blaine sobers up, sitting up straighter and setting his nearly empty plate on the coffee table. Kurt wonders if he said something he shouldn't have as he watches Blaine rest his wrists against his knees.

"Mr. Anderson—"

"I almost wasn't a professor," he says, looking over at Kurt with a soft smile on his face. "And I thought I told you to call me Blaine."

Kurt's heart quickens so instantaneously, he's surprised it doesn't give out. He gives one quick, jerky nod, and then looks down at his lap. Using Blaine's name in his head on a regular basis is still new, Kurt isn't sure he can make his lips form it just yet.

"I, um," Kurt stammers, setting his own half-eaten dinner on the coffee table so he can nervously cross his legs, "I can't imagine you being anything but a teacher."

Blaine's smile grows a little bigger.

"So what was it? Lawyer? Doctor? Dentist?"

Blaine gives him a slightly incredulous look.

"How do you know I wanted to be something respectable? Maybe I wanted to be a mime," Blaine says in all seriousness, and Kurt just raises an eyebrow. "Actually, I went into school planning to do something with music or acting."

Kurt's back goes straighter in his surprise—it's scarily close to what his dreams used to be, not so long ago.

"Becoming an English teacher is a pretty far cry from that."

"Well, I took a few English classes my first semester, then again my second, then even more over the summer semester, and then I met with my advisor in the fall and it turned out I had taken nearly three times as many English classes as music classes and maybe I should consider switching my major…" Blaine stares straight ahead and shrugs. "So I did."

"And you used it to become a professor," Kurt tacks on, like the end of a story.

"Not at first. I did intern with a publishing company for awhile, before I went back for my masters, and I didn't really think about teaching until then." Blaine's smile turns a little wry. "I considered teaching elementary school, actually, but I was so far down the English track already that becoming a professor seemed like the more logical choice."

Kurt imagines Blaine surrounded by dozens of seven-year-olds and has to stop himself from literally placing a hand to his heart and _cooing_.

"You make growing up sound very…" Kurt stops, mouth drawn into a line, and Blaine laughs—once, short and quick.

"Boring?" He glances over at Kurt, and Kurt bites his lip. "It isn't for everyone. You're a… What was it, again?"

"Fashion major. Design and merchandising." It feels silly and frivolous to say now. "It… It was theater, before. When I first got here." Blaine's eyebrows raise in interest.

"Change your mind?"

"Kind of a change of heart, actually… I just. Took a fashion class, got interested, and suddenly I was sketching more than I was practicing my scales…"

"Same story, then." Blaine smiles at him. "Well, I can't imagine that being boring. Especially since you sound like you love it."

"I do." Kurt smiles happily, resisting the urge to curl up on the couch. This sort of conversation feels so different than all of the other ones they've had, maybe because Kurt always just thinks of Blaine as he is right in this moment. It's different, thinking of Blaine as younger and indecisive, going through school and making decisions that will affect the rest of his life.

"But, you love Dickens," Kurt points out, and Blaine laughs, making Kurt smile. "And you love to teach. So… If you love what you do, does that really make it boring?"

"You know, you might be a little too smart for your own good." Blaine leans back against the couch, and picks up the binder from the top of his work pile. "But you're right. I do love what I do." He looks over at Kurt again, and this time his eyes are serious and Kurt feels like he's stopped breathing. "And whatever you end up doing with your life, Kurt, I'm sure you'll love it, too."

Kurt can't hold his gaze, looking back down at the work piled beside him. He probably shouldn't stay much longer, but everything feels surprisingly comfortable and he can't make himself get up and leave.

"Speaking of things that we love to do." Kurt taps his correcting pen against the anthologies.

"Teaching and grading are very different," Blaine corrects, and Kurt presses his lips together tight to keep from giggling.

"That does look like a lot." Kurt fake winces to show his sympathy.

"Well, if I put it off, I won't have any spring break to speak of. I'm already going to spend most of it grading midterms."

Kurt cocks his head to the side.

"I thought you said after break."

"That's one midterm, and I'm teaching quite a few classes this semester."

"So why don't you give them to us first? Aren't we here to make things easier on you?"

"Kurt, I'm not taking away anyone's spring break but my own." When Blaine smiles, Kurt can see the wrinkles where his eyes crinkle. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm—" Kurt stops, and Blaine raises his eyebrows. "I'm staying here for spring break, so if you wanted help…"

"You're offering to give up some of your spring break to grade midterms?" Blaine asks, incredulously, and Kurt sheepishly raises his shoulder.

"I mean, it's my job…" Sort of. Kind of. But it just sounds so _unfair_ that Blaine has to give up his time off to grade. True, he's the one who'd set all the assignments, but—well, it's _still_ not fair.

And maybe, just maybe, the idea of getting to see him again during their time off isn't so horrible sounding to Kurt.

Even though he knows it's a bad idea. Probably a horrible idea. Every time Blaine smiles, Kurt feels like he's falling a little more in love. At which point do crushes become impossible to get over?

"Well, if you _really_ want to—"

"Yes." He says it too fast, and Blaine still looks a little surprised. "I-I do."

And that's when Blaine smiles again, and Kurt knows that it's already far, _far_ too late.


	10. Break

**To:**  kurthummel@gmail.com  
 **From:**  blaine.anderson@gmail.com  
 **Subject:**  Midterm help?

Kurt,

I was just wondering if you were still interested in helping me grade midterms. If you are, how does Tuesday work for you? I don't want to impede on your break too much.

Blaine Anderson

*

 **To:**  blaine.anderson@gmail.com  
 **From:**  kurthummel@gmail.com  
 **Subject:**  RE: Midterm help?

Blaine,

You aren't impeding. I have spent my break so far getting ahead on reading and catching up on reality TV (mainly deciding whether or not this season of the Bachelor is worth it. Is it still worth it without the drama igniting hook-ups?).

Tuesday works just fine for me. Same time, same place?

Kurt

*

It's the first time that Kurt has seen Blaine's house in the daytime—he'd asked for Kurt to come over earlier than usual, mainly because of how much work is ahead of them. Kurt didn't know how to offer up another day of his break without coming cross as either pathetic or confusingly aggressive, but figures that if there's still stuff to be done after today, he'll have worked up to offering more help.

To be perfectly honest, it's nice having something to look forward to. All of Kurt's friends had gone home for the break, and as much relaxing as he's gotten done, he feels a little starved for social interaction even though it's only been a couple of days. He's Skyped with both Rachel and Mercedes already, and plans to at least a few more times before his break is over, but it's just not the same as actually being with someone face-to-face.

And, well, Kurt would be lying if he didn't admit to himself that it's also because it's  _Blaine_.

"Kurt!" Blaine says cheerfully in way of greeting—he's wearing shorts that end at the knee, and not the usual board shorts that Kurt is used to seeing guys his age wear. In fact, they're more on the fashionable side. Kurt even finds himself approving of the polo that Blaine has paired it with. Then he realizes that he's sort of  _checking out his teacher_ , and snaps his eyes back up to Blaine's face.

Blaine's easy-going, smiling, totally unsuspecting face. Because why would his student be checking him out?

"Hi… Blaine." It still feels weird in his mouth—not wrong, just… Kurt isn't even sure there's a word for it.  _Forbidden_  is the best thing he can come up with, but that seems a little strong for something as simple and, truthfully, innocent as using someone's  _actual name_.

 _No one else uses his name_ , the little voice in Kurt's head points out. Tina, Quinn, Jamie… They've been grading for him for how long and  _still_  refer to him as Mr. A? Kurt swallows.

"Come in." Blaine steps aside, holding the door open so that Kurt can get past. The plantation shutters that usually close up the windows in the evenings are open, filling the house with beautiful natural light, and Kurt finds that he vastly compares it to the—albeit cozy—lamp lighting. "I have to say, I kept expecting another email from you saying you couldn't make it."

Kurt folds his hands in front of him as he turns to look at Blaine, eyebrow lifted in curiosity.

"Why would I do that?" He asks, generally baffled, and tries to ignore the part of him that would happily spend his entire spring break in Blaine's living room.

"Because you're a college student on spring break, and you should have better things to do than hang out with someone like me." Blaine looks at him, a mixture of confusion and something like amusement on his face, but then shakes it off. "How old are you, anyway?"

It suddenly feels like Kurt is treading strange ground, and the urge to lie sits heavily on the back of his tongue before he thinks,  _why should I be lying?_

"I'll be 20 in about two months," Kurt tells him, a little reluctantly. Which is stupid. He knows why he doesn't want to talk about age, and he really wishes that part of him would shut up. The part of him that thinks he has a chance and therefore doesn't want to remind Blaine how  _painfully_  young he is.

That part of him is an idiot.

"I'm trying to remember what I used to do when I was that age," Blaine says around a grin, and Kurt crosses his arms, feeling strangely defensive.

"You say that like you're  _old_. You can't be more than, what, 30?" Kurt's eyes sweep over Blaine. God, he doesn't even look  _that_  old, but he's a college professor and it's not like someone becomes one of those with just a BA under their belt.

"Um." Blaine looks momentarily flustered, and Kurt wonders why. "I actually just turned 32 last month."

"Last  _month?_ " Kurt blinks, surprised. He tries to remember anyone mentioning it to him, or the graders doing anything, but he doesn't. "You never said anything. I would have made you a cake."

For a second, Kurt thinks that maybe that's too much, but Blaine smiles.

"I'm not a big fan of my birthday," Blaine explains, which is possibly one of the strangest things Kurt has  _ever_  heard.

"Afraid of getting old?" Kurt teases, lightly, even though Blaine  _isn't_  old. He's  _older_. There's a difference. "You know, thirty is the new twenty."

"Thank you, Jennifer Garner." Blaine gives Kurt an amused look, and then leads him into the living room. Oh, right. Momentarily, Kurt had forgotten that he was actually there for a legitimate, completely innocent reason.

"Do you not  _like_  cake?" Kurt continues to prod, and Blaine hims him an aghast look.

"Of course I like," he says, eyebrows scrunched together (adorably). "It  _is_  okay not to like your birthday, you know."

Kurt hums contemplatively, but doesn't agree. Seeing as he was the one pushing the issue in the first place, Blaine doesn't say anything else, settling down on the couch and gesturing for Kurt to join him.

"I still want to make you a cake," Kurt mutters, a little defiantly, and Blaine looks at him, smiling so that the corners of his eyes are crinkled in a way that makes Kurt feel a bit like he might start swooning.

"Well, who in their right mind would turn down a cake? Especially one you made." Blaine blinks, and then his smile fades, and he reaches for the large stack of essays piled high on his coffee table. "Shall we get started?"

Kurt frowns slightly, but agrees, wondering what on earth  _that_  was about.

*

It's mindless work.  Kurt can't exactly correct for content, but he's competent enough that he knows when a sentence sounds weird or when a word is misspelled. Blaine sits an appropriate distance away, enough space between them for Kurt to set a paper there when he finishes with it without it brushing either of their thighs. They'd been in about the same places the other night, but for some reason, Kurt is incredibly aware of Blaine's presence the entire time they grade.

He doesn't know if it's because what he's doing leaves his mind free to wander, or  _what_ , but Kurt's skin feels prickly with electricity and his mind is wild with what it would feel like if they were pressed side-to-side…

Kurt wonders if it would draw too much attention if he slapped himself in the face.

They work in almost absolute silence, and Kurt wishes there was music or that he had headphones or  _something_. He can hear the clock on the wall ticking, the sound of cars passing by on the street, the noise the couch makes whenever one of them shifts, the scratch of pens against paper, and possibly the pounding of his own pulse against his skin.

It kind of feels like he might be going insane.

He's only about a third of the way through the pile when he starts to feel like he might jitter right out of his body. Unfortunately, he's not the only one aware of it.

"Already restless?" Blaine sends him an amused glance, and then looks down at his watch. "It hasn't even been an hour yet."

It feels like it's been  _days_  already.

Kurt almost makes the excuse that he just isn't used to it, but it wouldn't make sense. This is his job, essentially—he's graded in Blaine's living room for hours before in near-silence and never had a problem with it. Kurt knows that it's the Blaine of it all that's making him so antsy. Even if he was seated in one of the armchairs across the room, he still wouldn't be able to concentrate on the job at hand.

Last time, it hadn't been so bad, but last time had been an accident. Last time, Kurt had sat alone for quite some time just grading and not thinking about the fact that the only people in the space were him and Blaine.

Now it's all he can think about. That, and the fact that they arranged this. Kurt knew he would come here and it would just be him and Blaine. Alone. For hours.

Not that it matters. Because Blaine is his professor, and an adult, and respectable, and wouldn't ever try to do something inappropriate with Kurt. He'd freaked out over a  _hug_ , for god's sake.

So Kurt would really like his head to stop coming up with all sorts of different scenarios that are never going to play out in a thousand years, because they're putting him on edge and he's halfway to running out of the house entirely or possibly pinning Blaine to the couch, neither of which would be good.

"Kurt…?"

Kurt blinks out of his own head, and Blaine is staring at him, eyes worried behind his glasses. Kurt smiles tightly.

"I think I'm just… Hungry, so I'm getting distracted." He's not hungry, but he doesn't really know what else to say. Blaine looks a little abashed, frowning as he leans back against the couch.

"I'm sorry, I didn't even think to ask—I just assumed that you would have eaten by now. I figured I could order us pizza or something for dinner, but feel free to help yourself to my kitchen in the meantime." Blaine's smile is a little hopeful, and Kurt instantly feels bad for lying.

But it is a good excuse to leave the room and clear his head a little bit.

"Thank you, I—do you want anything while I'm up?" Kurt fumbles to offer, feeling slightly awkward. But Blaine just smiles, shakes his head, and turns back to the paper he's grading, leaving Kurt to shuffle off to the kitchen.

*

Kurt comes back with two cups of lemonade, a bowl of pretzels, and his nerves, if not gone, then a bit more manageable than before. It had been strange to wander around in Blaine's kitchen—he'd never been inside of it before, and it had felt intrusive, poking through his cabinets and his fridge. But it had also been just the distraction that Kurt had needed from himself.

He might have spent a little too long looking over Blaine's dishes (three sets—different, but complimentary) and cups (mostly glass, and a rather large and adorable mug collection). Kurt feels so at home in his own kitchen that it felt like peaking into a part of Blaine he didn't know.

It had been a distraction, but, thinking back, it might not have been the best one, given his current fixation on Blaine. A spotless kitchen and endearing Snoopy mug aren't exactly helping Kurt get rid of his crush.

 _I need to find out something horrible about him_ , Kurt thinks, rather miserably, as he settles on the couch again.  _Like he doesn't believe in marriage, or monogamy, or Marc Jacobs_.

"You made lemonade," Blaine says, and his eyes light up like an excited little boy's, and Kurt thinks,  _fuck_.

"Just in case," Kurt replies, voice a little weak, and then picks up his pen and the next paper he has to grade. At this rate, Kurt wonders if anything less than murder could make his feelings for Blaine any less than what they are.

They work, and it's quiet except for the occasional sound of Blaine grabbing and eating pretzels. Kurt's happy that Blaine's making use of them—his own stomach is such a tangle of knots, he'd probably throw up anything he tried to get down. He wrinkles his nose at the thought.

Kurt feels like maybe he can get through the rest of the day, and thinks that it's probably better that this was just a one-day thing. He doesn't think he could make it through another one without suffering some kind of nervous breakdown, or doing something really stupid or embarrassing. He even starts to breathe a little easier as the light in the room starts to shift, the sun starting to set. Kurt resists the urge to stare at Blaine and the way the changing light is no doubt playing across him, because it's not going to help the situation at all.

He still thinks about it, watching the colors change across the skin of his own hand instead as he works. A part of him wonders—no. He stops it. No wondering, no hoping, no wishing. It's a dangerous road that his head keeps trying to head down.

And he almost makes it. It becomes late enough that Blaine excuses himself from the room to order them a pizza, and Kurt wilts back into the couch and breathes deeply and promises himself that he's never going to do something like this again. It's not that he doesn't like spending time with Blaine, because every non-academic conversation they've had has been… Well, wonderful, actually.

The problem is that it's awkward. At least, it's awkward for Kurt. There's this underlying tension that he's almost positive Blaine is oblivious to, but that Kurt can feel all the way down to his bones. Kurt knows that, as long as it's there, he'll never be able to settle in any situation where it's just him and Blaine. Alone.

Kurt would sigh in defeat, but Blaine settles on the couch and starts to work again.

It's really a surprise that it hasn't happened already, and maybe Kurt should expect it. But when he sets a paper down, Blaine reaches to pick one up at the same time, and their hands touch.

The way Kurt reacts, it's like he touched fire rather than skin.

"Kurt?" Blaine asks, and  _shit_. Because how the fuck is Kurt supposed to explain that away as something other than incredibly weird? He's sitting there, cradling his hand to his chest like there might be a mark there from where they touched, and Blaine is staring at him with concern and confusion written all over his face.

And Kurt is stuck, because what does he say now?

For a few long moments, he doesn't do anything but breathe.

"Kurt, are you okay?" Blaine asks, voice tentative, and Kurt stares down at his lap before closing his eyes. Is he really going to do this? "Kurt?" Blaine pushes again, voice soft, concerned. "Is something wrong?"

"I—" Shit, he's actually going to do this." Blaine… Professor Anderson. I have to tell you something."

Blaine's eyebrows scrunch together, but he sets the paper he was working on aside and turns his completely attention to Kurt. Kurt's eyes flick over, but—no, he can't do this while looking at him.

He doesn't even know how to go about doing this, and he wonders if there's some other way he can decide to go with this. But lying about something—friends, his dad, school, anything like that—it feels so wrong. But Kurt's never done this before, he's never really laid out his feelings like this. It's not like he's particularly good at  _hiding_  them; when he's had them in the past, people always knew. Kurt had hated that then, but isn't that so much  _easier?_

Either he's gotten better at not being such an open-book, or Blaine is just hopelessly unaware of things like that. Then again, why should he be aware of it? How often could this  _possibly_  happen?

Kurt swallows, willing the lump in his throat to go away so he could just spit this out and be done with it.

"Kur—"

"I have a crush on you," Kurt rushes to say, his skin flaring with heat before he's even finished getting it out. He's gripping the fabric of his jeans in his hands, staring straight ahead, and feeling suffocated by the sudden silence. But the rush broke the lump—he swallows again. "I know that it's inappropriate—" How many times has he reminded himself of that fact? "—and it's not like I… I  _expect_  anything, or anything like that." He feels like his skin is on fire.

"I just—this was a bad idea. I shouldn't have offered to help you, and I'm. I'm sorry for putting you in this position." God, he's such an idiot, what was he hoping this would accomplish?

 _Nothing_ , his head reminds him. He meant it when he said he didn't expect anything. But already it feels like he can breathe a little better, like he isn't carrying some big, crushing weight around. Kurt isn't good with secrets like that. He's not  _good_  at being a closed book, not because he doesn't want to be, but because it's not in his nature and he doesn't like it. Sadness, anger, love—he can smile it away, pretend like it's nothing, but that doesn't stop him from expressing it in some way.

It didn't accomplish anything, but it broke the tension that's been following him around since December.

"It's really nothing," Kurt continues, when Blaine still hasn't said anything. "I mean, it's just—it's just a silly little crush, it's nothing." It doesn't feel like nothing, but he doesn't have to make this worse than it already is. He's suddenly grateful that he didn't bring anything with him but his phone and his keys, because it makes what he's about to do—the only thing he can do now—so much easier. "So please don't—if it's too weird, I can… Quit or you can fire me, or whatever. I'd understand."

The extra money has been nice, but Kurt isn't dependent on it.

Blaine still hasn't said anything, so Kurt stands up, takes a deep breath, and looks at him. He has his the thumb of his fist pressed to his mouth, eyebrows low, and he isn't looking at Kurt.

It hurts. But what did Kurt really expect?

He closes his eyes against tears that he really doesn't want to shed—he's dealt with plenty of unrequited crushes, and this one was certainly not going to be the one that actually became something. It stings, and he might cry later, when he's alone. But it will be fine.  _He_  will be fine. He always is, when things like this happens.

Kurt nods to himself, and, without another word, he leaves Blaine's house, confident that whatever relationship they might have started to build has been absolutely destroyed.


	11. A Little More

Kurt expects an email from Blaine outlining how exactly this whole "firing" thing works out. In fact, he checks both his personal and school accounts a little obsessively. But, by Friday, he hasn't heard anything—and maybe he should have expected that. Maybe Kurt is just supposed to inherently know that he doesn't have the grader job anymore, and Blaine decided it would be best if they just cut communication all-together.

Fuck. Mr. Anderson. He'll have to call him Mr. Anderson again.

It still hurts a few days later, but he'd expected that. He keeps telling himself that it's silly, that he needs to stop, but every time he thinks of Blaine, he can't help it. They were friends, at least, and Kurt had liked his job being a grader. He'd liked having someone on the staff that he was semi-close with.

The problem is, he'd gotten too close. He'd ruined it.

The only good thing is that at least Kurt won't awkwardly run into Blaine anywhere—and fuck it, he can continue calling him Blaine in his own _head_ at least, there's no harm in that. But Blaine is an English professor, and Kurt is a Fashion major who's finished up all his English-related GEs. The buildings aren't even close together on campus. So unless it's another grocery store incident like back at Thanksgiving, the chances of Kurt having to come face-to-face with his humiliation and rejected feelings is slim (which is better than all the other times he's had to face it).

It's a pathetic bright side, but it's a bright side, and he's going to cling to it until he moves past this bit of heart ache and just… Moves on with everything.

Which would be a lot easier if Blaine had _said_ something. Anything.

But he hadn't. And it's not like Kurt can go and ask for closure, so he'll just have to settle with Blaine's silence.

*

Tina texts him Friday night while he's indulging in a face mask.

**karaoke tmmrw nite? 8pm itll b fun!!!**

And Kurt stares at it and tries not to frown as he thinks. Because he'd already considered (and marginally accepted) the loss of Blaine in his life, but not being a grader anymore kind of negates his reason to hang out with a group of people that he's become friends with over the last three months.

Then again, they probably don't know he's not a grader anymore. He wonders when Blaine plans on telling them.

Either way, it'll be a good distraction, and a good excuse for him to hang out with them. Spring break has been entirely lackluster, and Kurt is surprisingly ready for classes to start again so he has something to throw himself into.

 **See you there!** he texts back, trying his best not to smile so he doesn't break his mask. It'll be fun, he tells himself. After all, none of them have ever heard him sing.

*

Quinn is the one who texts him the address on Saturday, and it's to a place downtown that Kurt's heard of but hasn't been to. He might be a second year, but he doesn't exactly have a ridiculously large circle of friends that enjoy things like karaoke. Maybe he would, if he'd stuck with musical theater, but most of the girls (and handful of guys) in his own major never really suggest karaoke as something to go and do on the weekends.

Everyone but Nick is already there—Jamie gives one of his awkward little waves in greeting, and the girls all take turns hugging him, Tina already prattling away about her own spring break and asking questions that she doesn't really give him time to answer. Kurt feels a pang in his chest when he realizes how much he's going to see all of them once a week.

There are a few people there that Kurt doesn't know, and he remembers Tina asking him if he wanted to bring anyone with him (he hadn't). He's introduced to Tina and Brynn's boyfriends, and a couple of Quinn and Jamie's friends, all of whom are occupying a two booths on the side of the bar.

"When's Nick supposed to be here?" He asks, scooting into the booth next to Quinn and smiling at her.

"Soon, I think?" She looks around, as if someone else might know the answer. "Mr. A, too."

Kurt feels like his entire body freezes.

"What?" He asks, voice forced to remain cheerful.

"Mr. A!" Tina turns around in her seat in the other booth, grinning at both of them. "He loves these sort of things!"

Of course he does. Kurt starts to try to think up an excuse to leave.

"I'm excited to hear you sing, Kurt," Brynn says, her voice a little too quiet in the loud room. He looks at her, surprised. "You always talk about it." She smiles, kindly, and Kurt blinks in surprise.

"I'll have to say I'm pretty excited, too," Quinn adds from beside him, and nudges his shoulder, and Kurt smiles, preening a little bit. Well, he's already there, after all. And Kurt has never been the sort of person to just run away from things.

"Okay, but you guys have to sing, too," he challenges, and Quinn laughs while Brynn stutters in surprise and tries to get out of it. Sitting there and talking with them, Kurt really wishes they'd been around for the entirety of spring break. He probably would have enjoyed it a lot more.

*

Nick arrives and squeezes into Tina's booth. They all order food, and swap stories about their breaks. Kurt is sure to leave his visit to Blaine's house completely out of it, and draws sympathy when he talks about focusing on projects for his classes and Skyping with family and friends. Stories dissolve after that into stories about anything—Quinn tells him about this Scottish TA she had and how his thick accent made it difficult for her to understand, and Brynn shares a story about how one of her professors once said the word _erection_ instead of _eruption_ in the middle of a lecture.

It's fun, and possibly the best way for Kurt to end his break. Probably also the best way to end his regularly scheduled time with this group of people, too, but he doesn't let himself think about that too much. After all, they're all friends on Facebook, and he has all their numbers and addresses and emails. Just because they don't work together doesn't mean they have to stop being friends.

Brynn's boyfriend Toby—who, Kurt learns, is actually a grad student, and he would _love_ to hear that story—is telling them his favorite excuses some of his students have given him in the past for late assignments, when Kurt happens to look toward the entrance and see Blaine. His entire body goes still against his volition, and despite someone else being in the middle of a story, he decides he needs to get up and sing _right then_.

He's not going to run away entirely, but that doesn't mean he has to be at the table when Blaine walks over and everyone starts greeting him.

Thankfully, he's the only one who's noticed Blaine arriving—which should be strange, but Kurt has become painfully aware of his presence these last few months. But it means Kurt can slip away without too much suspicion. After all, he could just suddenly have the urge to sing. He's up by the stage before Blaine has even spotted their table, but Kurt can't help but watch him as he makes his way through the crowd and people jump up to greet him.

He feels like he's sulking, wishing he could be over there and pretend like everything was normal. Like maybe what had happened last Tuesday had never happened at all. But it had, and he couldn't take it back now—he's still not sure if he would even want to. As much as it stings to see Blaine, there's something freeing about not lying to himself anymore.

Quinn gestures towards him, and Kurt spins around to look at the song selection book before he can see Blaine no doubt look over.

Great. Now he knows Kurt is there.

Kurt is flipping through the book without even really paying attention to it, before he realizes that he really _should_ be. After all, he's not just up by the stage to avoid Blaine—he's up there to sing, and this is the first time all of these people will be hearing him.

This is the first time _Blaine_ will be hearing him.

He wishes he'd had the foresight to talk to Rachel about this beforehand—she always knows the right thing to sing to leave an impression.

It's a good thing this bar is frequented by musical theater majors; Kurt wonders if the show tunes selection would be quite so extensive otherwise. Well, he might not have Rachel's hit-or-miss guidance, but he does have a good old fall-back. Sort of. He briefly wonders if this is a little passive aggressive of him, but… Well, he _does_ like the song.

If it's vaguely fitting (sort of, _kind of_ ) to what he's feeling right now, that doesn't hurt, right?

Kurt realizes, as he heads up on stage, that it's been awhile since he's done this. But he already feels that prick—something like nerves, except he's not gripped in terror. Performing is a rush, like a roller coaster ride, leaving him breathless and exhilarated, but there isn't fear. Not really. There's that brief hesitance before the lights wash everything out, before everything clicks into place, before it's just Kurt, the music, and the knowledge of the audience looking and listening.

It doesn't have to be an upbeat song, and this one certainly isn't—Kurt slips into his performing space either way, gripping the microphone with both hands as the music starts behind him.

He smiles, and closes his eyes to start.

" _Hands touch, eyes meet. Sudden silence, sudden heat. Hearts leap in a giddy whirl… He could be that boy, but I'm not that girl._ " It doesn't fit exactly, and maybe if Kurt had looked through the book, he could have found something perfect. But he didn't want to look like he was trying too hard, that he was singing something incredibly pointed.

This is only _a little_ pointed. After all, as far as he knows, it's not another person keeping Kurt from Blaine. Although, a twelve year age difference might as well account for another person.

…Kurt's never even thought about the idea that there might be someone in Blaine's life. After all, it's not like they ever talk about personal things. He's never seen pictures in Blaine's office or house, but that doesn't mean anything.

And then Kurt reminds himself that it doesn't matter. It's not like whether or not Blaine is available makes a difference. He'll always be unavailable to Kurt, in any capacity.

" _Every so often we long to steal to the land of what-might-have-been. But that doesn't soften the ache we feel when reality sets back in…_ "

Kurt is glad for stage lights. There's a power that comes with knowing the audience is there, but not being able to see them. In most cases, it's the sort of thing that would probably get to him—to be seen but not able to see—but it doesn't when he's performing. The darkness feels like it gives him courage.

But at the same time, he wishes he could see a little better. He wishes he could look back to where his friends are sitting, to where Blaine no doubt is. He wonders if Blaine is listening, _really_ listening. He wonders what Blaine thinks—of the song, of his voice, of _him_. He wonders if Blaine understands that the feelings Kurt is pouring into the words without really meaning to are because of him.

 _It's a silly crush_ , Kurt keeps reminding himself, even though it doesn't feel anything close to silly. Then again, Kurt's always felt a little too much when it came to certain things.

He might not be able to see, but he looks toward the area of the room where his friends are, anyway. They don't have to think it means anything, even though it does.

" _Don't wish. Don't start. Wishing only wounds the heart. I wasn't born for the rose and the pearl. There's a girl I know… He loves her so._ " Kurt smiles sadly, and closes his eyes again. " _I'm not that girl._ "

And the audience claps, and Kurt's face bursts into a completely incontrollable grin—because that's one thing he'll never be able to help or fight against in any capacity. Having an audience, feeling that rush, that _appreciation_ , fills him with indescribable joy. For a brief second, Kurt even feels the tinge of regret that his love for the stage, for performing, fell to the wayside to make way for his passion for design.

 _Nobody ever said I couldn't have both_ , he reminds himself, doing a giddy bow before he leaves the stage so it can be taken by the next performance. He walks with his chin up, feeling like confidence is pounding through his veins. It's easy to not be afraid of Blaine when he's feeling so damn _good_.

"I'll have to say I'm impressed," Quinn says with one of her smiles as he gets back to the booth, still high on his short performance.

"Kurt, that was amazing," Brynn tells him earnestly.

"I can't believe we didn't know you could sing like that!" Tina looks at him in an almost accusatory fashion, and Kurt just smiles coyly and shrugs.

"Yes, well." He tilts his chin up, and a few of them laugh, and he smiles bigger. It's still a night out with friends. It's not weird, or uncomfortable, and Kurt feels like a _superhero_ right now.

"I've got to say, Kurt," says a voice behind him, and he knows who it is before he even turns around. "The musical theater department really lost something when you decided to switch majors." Blaine is standing there, smiling at him in an almost hesitant way. Kurt feels his cheeks bloom with color, and he's happy again for the dim lighting as he dips his head.

"I don't think they would have known what to do with me," he counters, trying to keep his voice even as he treads very uneven ground.

"I wouldn't sell yourself short, Kurt. You're very talented."

Kurt presses his lips together and takes a deep breath, before giving the best smile of thanks he can muster.

"Thank you… Mr. Anderson."

For a brief second, something strange flits across Blaine's expression—surprise? disappointment? Kurt might even be wishful enough to say _hurt_ —but then it's gone.

"Wait until you hear Mr. A sing," Tina is saying as she comes to stand beside him, looping their arms together, and Kurt looks at her and wonders if she's really that oblivious to the energy that exists between him and Blaine.

Then again, maybe Kurt is still the only one attuned to it.

"Tina." Blaine laughs, a little self-deprecating, and it's something that Kurt isn't quite used to seeing on him.

"Don't be modest," she colds him, playfully, and then looks back at Kurt. "Did you know that he used to want to be a performer? He's a great educator, don't get me wrong," she adds as an aside to Blaine, and he laughs out a _none taken_ , "but talk about a _loss_. I think the entertainment industry would weep if they knew," she finishes, solemnly, and Kurt would swear by that little speech that Tina had her own crush on the professor.

Well, at least Kurt has a bit more of a chance than she does.

Not that he has a chance.

He really needs to stop.

"Well, I suppose after that, I can't really say no, can I?" Blaine asks, and Tina beams at him. There's a few awkward moments of silence before someone is pulling Tina into another conversation, and Kurt decides he should just sit down and act as normal as possible. It's not that he's scared of Blaine, he just… Isn't sure how he's supposed to be acting right now.

He's half turned back towards the booth when Blaine reaches out and grabs his upper arm—at least Kurt doesn't jerk away violently this time. Small victories, although it would have been even better if it had never happened to begin with. Maybe then things would be relatively normal and he could just quietly swoon over Blaine in the corner without being hyperactively aware of the fact that that is what he was doing.

Because if he does it now, Blaine might see, and if Blaine _sees_ he is definitely going to know exactly what's going on.

And _that_ , that is a little terrifying.

"Kurt, I think we should talk."

Kurt's mouth goes dry, but he nods, and Blaine gestures towards the bar with a tilt of his head. Kurt follows behind him, silently, completely at a loss for what to say.

"I want you to know that I don't expect you to quit," Blaine starts, and Kurt has to keep himself from suddenly stopping due to shock. "In fact, I don't want you to quit. I like having you on the team, Kurt, and I—" Blaine stops, glances back at him, shakes his head once, "—I don't want you to quit, either."

It doesn't feel like the original end of that sentence, but Kurt doesn't push. He doesn't know if there is any leeway, and he'd rather just listen in this conversation than make anything worse.

"It's only weird if we make it weird, right?" Blaine supplies, brightly, as they stop to the side of the bar, somewhere out of the way of foot traffic. "I… Look, Kurt, you know that—"

"I know," Kurt butts in, because he's already been rejected and he really doesn't need to relive that. "I already told you, I don't expect anything, Professor."

"You _can_ still call me Blaine, Kurt." Blaine's eyebrows lower on his forehead. "We are friends, aren't we?"

"Are you sure that would be _appropriate?_ " Kurt bites back, unable to keep the venom from his words after nursing his hurt for the last several days.

"Kurt." Blaine frowns, his face becoming stern. "You're a student, I'm a member of the faculty. You should know that you're encouraged to become close to your professors, especially those within your department, but the relationship is meant to remain on professional, or friendly at the absolute most."

Kurt feels like a child being scolded, but, in retrospect, isn't that what he is?

When Kurt doesn't answer, Blaine sighs.

"I thought you said you didn't expect anything?" He looks tired, his gaze softer, like he's trying to be gentle or sympathetic or something.

"I… I don't." Kurt crosses his arms and looks away. "I guess it's just not in my nature to give up easily," he mutters. And Blaine chuckles, drawing Kurt's attention.

"Something that will no doubt get you far in life, just as much as it gets you into trouble." Blaine smiles wryly.

"Well," Kurt responds, dryly, drawing his shoulders back. "You might as well just tell it to me straight."

Blaine's eyebrows arch.

"Tell you what?"

"…that I don't have a chance in hell? I know that I don't, I just… Sometimes you need to hear things like that to believe them, you know?"

Blaine looks honestly surprised, his mouth hanging open slightly.

"I can't understand how someone like you doesn't have a boyfriend," is the last thing Kurt expects Blaine to say (okay, maybe not the _last_ thing, but it is completely out of left field), and Kurt stares in stunned silence.

"I—well, it's not…" He stutters, looking away, and doesn't Blaine realize this isn't helping anything? That this is just making things easier? Kurt closes his eyes and breathes. "I guess we can just say I'm pretty particular, and leave it at that, alright?" He gives Blaine a tight smile. "So… This? We're… Okay? I don't make you feel… Uncomfortable?"

"What? No, of-of course not, Kurt. No." Blaine looks abashed by the suggestion of it. "Yes, we're absolutely okay."

Kurt smiles for the first real time since encountering Blaine that night, and gives a little nod.

"I'm going to head back then." Kurt thumbs over his shoulder. Blaine nods, probably more than is necessary, and then Kurt turns away. It was… Weird, but it wasn't bad. Kurt didn't lose his job, or his friends, or _Blaine_ , even. At least, not completely.

He pauses halfway back to the table, glancing over his shoulder, and Blaine still hasn't moved from his spot by the bar. In fact, he's looking straight at Kurt, watching him, and it makes something zing unfamiliar zing up Kurt's spine.

After all that, Kurt can't help but wonder if maybe he has more of Blaine than either of them are aware of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song used was "I'm Not That Girl" from Wicked.


	12. ...But the Kitchen Sink

Any day now, the other shoe is going to drop. Kurt knows it is, because that's how these things work. Blaine can say all he wants about how it's only weird if they make it weird, Kurt can't actually accept the fact that Blaine can completely turn a blind eye to Kurt's confession and feelings.

The idea that he _could_ actually stings a little bit.

By some mutual, silent agreement, they never mention the fact that Kurt was over twice without the rest of the group—they definitely don't bring up that he came of his own volition over spring break to help Blaine out with papers. As much as Kurt wishes he had someone to talk to that knew the situation better, he also knows that the less they all know, the better. It's far less humiliating for him, and makes being around them loads easier.

Kurt expects the tension to persist between him and Blaine, and it's still there, but not as crushingly prevalent as it was before. Maybe it has to do with the fact that Blaine knows, but Kurt can't really explain it. His heart still pounds, and he still looks when he thinks he won't be caught, but he doesn't feel like he's about to combust from it all.

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that he's done all he can really do, and just has to wait for the feelings to dull and fade with time.

Which might be easier if Blaine had point-blank turned him down. Kurt finds it nearly impossible to stomp out the little flame of hope that exists because of that fact, and because of, well, the way Blaine had looked at him that night at karaoke. The way Kurt sees him looking sometimes still, before he acts like he was just glancing around the room and goes back to what he was doing.

Those looks just fuel the flame, and Kurt wishes Blaine would just _stop_.

But after the first, only-slightly weird grading session, Kurt's expectation of everything coming to pieces in seconds starts to go away. By the end of the second one, it's gone completely, and things feel relatively normal again. Sure, there's still Blaine's weird looks and the stupid hope that just won't die, but it's a lot better than Kurt had expected things to be.

*

Jamie's birthday is coming up, and they turn grader night into an impromptu party. Quinn and Kurt commandeer Blaine's kitchen, insisting on making dinner rather than the normal plan of ordering out. They don't grade, and Blaine ribs on them about how they'll just have to do it on their own time even if he doesn't actually mind their procrastination.

By then, it's been three weeks since Kurt's confession, and things are as normal as they could be with him still crushing on a professor and that professor being aware of it (not that Blaine ever really gives signs of being aware of it). Kurt's beginning to think that they can actually do this, that life (and whatever type of relationship they have) will go back to normal. Or, at least, to what it was before.

The night gets a little crazier than an impromptu party really calls for—people invite friends, or significant others, and the music gets loud and impossible not to dance to. Kurt almost feels bad for Jamie. He's one of the quietest in their group, and he's not at all used to being the center of attention. At some point during the evening, someone produces alcohol seemingly from nowhere, and Blaine loudly declares that he's going to leave the room as it does; something about how no responsible adult would allow minors to drink? But, as the night starts winding down, Kurt can see that Jamie is quite red in the face and a few of the others have had quite a bit to drink themselves.

While Kurt doesn't partake in any alcohol consumption, he _does_ have fun, which is a little surprising. Parties with loud music and alcohol aren't really his _thing_ , even now that he's in college and the stereotype dictates that they're supposed to be. But it's fun to see his friends make fools of themselves without any sense of shame. Eventually, though, the dishes that he and Quinn left to soak in the kitchen seem to start calling to him quite persistently. Kurt isn't really the sort of person to leave things until later, but no one would hear of him doing dishes right when the party was "getting started." 

But everyone is more-or-less preoccupied, so he takes that moment to slip away, grabbing at the nearest (soberest) grader on his way into the kitchen. He doesn't even realize it's Brynn that he has by the arm until he's handing over dish towels, but she just gives him a small smile and nods her head—she's easily the least confrontational person that Kurt's ever met. So he smiles back, snaps on a pair of gloves (that Blaine _thankfully_ has) and gets to work.

The noise of the party drifts into the kitchen from the living room in sudden bursts of laughter or indecipherable shouting layered over the beat of music. The only noise Kurt and Brynn add is the occasional clink of dishes, but otherwise they're silent. Brynn isn't exactly the small-talk type, but Kurt doesn't mind. Her silence is actually kind of calming. He wonders if maybe he could convince her to study with him for finals, even though they're not taking any of the same classes.

"So this is where you two went."

The plate Kurt is holding is slippery with soap and water, which is the _only reason_ it nearly slips from his fingers and ends up clattering loudly against other dishes in the sink. It's not because he's surprised or because Blaine just walked into the kitchen. _Definitely_ not.

"Kurt's being a responsible party guest," Brynn tells Blaine in that soft voice of hers, and Blaine laughs, making Kurt's ears hot.

"I'm not at all surprised," Blaine replies, voice full of good-humor. Kurt can't help but wonder what exactly _that's_ supposed to mean, but whatever. Blaine sounds closer than he originally did, but Kurt doesn't dare to turn around and check. "Did you two need any help?"

"No," Kurt is quick to say, before Brynn possibly invites Blaine to stay and help them. But he keeps his voice light, even if it's far from how he's currently feeling. "I think we've got things handled."

The silence that follows feels like it lasts years.

"If you're sure…" Blaine finally says, the words drawn out and slow.

Kurt breathes. _Thank god_.

"Um, actually…" Brynn starts, tentatively, and Kurt lifts his head and turns it slowly to look at her—he's surprised to see her staring back at him already. She looks a little scared, and maybe a little apologetic, but then her face just shifts into a look of confusion, like she's trying to figure something out.

It's unnerving.

When her gaze shifts from Kurt to Blaine, and then back again, it becomes _terrifying_.

She can't _know_ … Can she?

 _Know what?_ Kurt reminds himself. _There's nothing to know._

"I, um. I left Toby in the other room by himself, so if you wouldn't mind, Professor A.?" She looks away from Kurt and back towards Blaine, holding out the dish towels. For a second, Kurt feels like he's been doused with cold water—Brynn called him _Professor A_. When was the last time Kurt called him that? And how exactly is that significant?

Kurt has to restrain himself from reaching a soapy glove toward Brynn, grabbing her by the arm, and _making_ her stay. Kurt doesn't think Toby needs Brynn by his side—he's an incredibly intimidating person, and they are certainly one of the strangest couples Kurt has _ever_ seen. They both aren't big talkers, but it's literally the only common thing between them that Kurt can find. He doesn't spend a lot of one-on-one time with Brynn, but he'd love to hear their story one day.

Like now. Brynn should stay and tell him _now_.

"Sure, Brynn."

Kurt can suddenly feel Blaine's presence by his shoulder. That's not normal, is it?

"Go save your boyfriend from the party."

"More like save the party from him." She says in amusement, and then Kurt catches her smiling at him… Encouragingly? _What?_ She touches his arm as she steps away from the sink, and then she's gone, Blaine now standing where she'd been. Kurt resolutely does _not_ look at him.

Neither of them says anything, and if Kurt couldn't see Blaine's profile and the flash of his emerald green polo out of the corner of his eye, if he wasn't so acutely _aware_ of Blaine, it would be almost like Brynn had never left.

Except that she did, and as much as Kurt would like to pretend he's not standing next to Blaine, he _is_ , and he can't stop _thinking_ about it. Dishes normally help him de-stress, to calm down and clear his head, but he just feels strung taught, tension thick in his shoulders and spine and the jerky movements of his arms as he washes dishes. It's not even like he's particularly angry or frustrated, he just doesn't _know_. He's full of anxiety because of all the unknown variables in this situation, because this still hasn't happened. Things have lapsed back to normal when Kurt and Blaine don't have to directly interact, but now? Kurt has no idea what to do now. 

Is this what Blaine had wanted? To force them into a situation where it was just them? Did he want to see how Kurt would react? If Kurt could keep up the whole _normal_ thing? What _is_ normal in this situation? Has their relationship outside of work and school ever even been any definition of normal? God, what is Kurt supposed to _do?_ To _say?_ Or, what does Blaine _want_ him to do? What exactly does he expect from Kurt?

"Kurt?" Blaine says his name and, just like that, Kurt snaps back into himself.

"Yes?" His voice cracks.

"Um, you know, I believe you're capable of _a lot_ of things, but I don't think you'll be able to scrub a hole through that plate."

Kurt resolutely ignores the first part of the sentence—he's confused enough as it _is_ right now, he doesn't need to over-analyze and pick at more than he already is. So instead he stares down at the thoroughly cleaned plate the sponge is still working against. How long as he been washing it? He rinses it and then sheepishly hands it to Blaine. Their fingertips brush, and Kurt wishes he wasn't wearing gloves for once.

Blaine smiles at him, and Kurt returns it, hesitantly, before he's bowled over by the domesticity of the moment. Is this their normal now? _This?_ Maybe, just maybe, Kurt can get used to it. Maybe it won't be so bad after all.

"So Kurt," Blaine says as he dries the plate, and Kurt pauses in washing the casserole dish he's working on to give Blaine his attention. "Have you thought any more on taking my Dickens survey next semester? I'd love to have you there."

And just like that, any hopefulness Kurt had been feeling crumbles to dust. It feels like a cold douse of reality after what had seemed like a warm, charming, _promising_ moment. But no. _God_. Kurt can feel his confusion roll and boil, turning twisted and ugly and _angry_. Because _of course_. Of course Blaine would bring up school, and classes. Of course he would. It's like Blaine can't wait to remind Kurt what their _real_ relationship to each other is. Kurt is the student. Blaine is the teacher. This is obviously what Blaine is trying to stress. Blaine is _teacher-zoning_ him. Or student-zoning. There is definitely some kind of zoning or blocking of some sort going on here, and it's _annoying_.

Which is why, when Kurt finally responds, it's with a curled lip and a quiet, contempt-filled, "I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable, _Professor_."

He doesn't look at Blaine long enough to see what comes after the initial shock on Blaine's face (which Kurt feels a strange delight at putting there), but Kurt doesn't _want_ to see.

He fucking goes to town on Blaine's _stupid_ casserole dish.

"I thought we weren't going to let this get weird," Blaine finally whispers, and he sounds a little, well, _desperate_. It's hard to tell, though. His voice is so quiet Kurt's surprised he hears it over the running water.

Kurt doesn't want things to be weird, _really_ , he doesn't. He's not acting this way on purpose, it just sort of… Happens. The idea of losing Blaine completely hurts more than he would ever, ever tell anyone, because Blaine is one of the best teachers Kurt's ever had, and on top of that, he's a great boss, and a great friend, and he's just… He's so… He's _wonderful_. But that's the problem, isn't it? Blaine is so fucking amazing and wonderful that Kurt can't stop feeling the way he's feeling, and the longer this drags on, the more he thinks he can't do it. Kurt _can't_ act normal, because it doesn't feel anything close-to-normal to deny what he's so blatantly feeling.

He thought it would all come crashing down. He thought being around Blaine would be unbearable, and that he'd have to quit, have to run away, and now he's wishing that he had (except he knows that's a lie, he _knows_ it). But being around Blaine doesn't sting the way rejection normally does, is supposed to. No, it's this deeper, encompassing _ache_ of wanting something so, _so_ badly and knowing that you can't have it.

The summer after Kurt's junior year of high school, his dad and Carole, as well as Rachel's dads, had paid for them to go to New York for a few days as a weird joint-birthday gift. Kurt remembers being there and falling in love with the city first-hand, a city he longs for even when he's on the other side of the country. He remembers walking down Fifth Avenue, arm-in-arm with Rachel, stars in his eyes as he looked at all of the beautiful things he would probably never have. It was inevitable, really, that he'd fall in love with that sweater at Saks, and that he'd almost cry looking at the price tag and knowing he'd have to leave the sweater behind.

That's what this is like, only this sweater is being held out in front of him, close enough that Kurt can see all the beautiful knit detailing that he just wants to run his fingers over and appreciate… But each time he reaches out to touch, to grab, to _have_ , the sweater is pulled a little further away, just out of reach. And he can't make himself give up.

God, it's not _fair_.

And there's nothing Kurt can do, absolutely nothing. How is he supposed to tell Blaine that he can't do it? That he can't _not_ be weird because he can't just _give_ up? It's not in his nature. Giving up is simply not in Kurt Hummel's vocabulary.

So he doesn't say anything, his annoyance fading until it's a lump of resignation in his throat, corking all of his despair inside.

There's so much tension then that Kurt thinks he should be the one to give in first, make an excuse about how it's late and just… Just _leave_ , or something. Because he keeps fucking it up, and making it weird, and _god_ , Blaine must hate him. He must hate the stupid, annoying _kid_ who's in love with him.

Kurt has to glare at the faucet on the sink to contain the sudden pressure in his eyes. The last thing he's going to do is cry.

"Are you going home for the summer?" It's so conversational, so easy, Blaine doesn't even sound the slightest bit mad. He's just… He's making conversation, and Kurt stares at him dumbly for much longer than he means to, because then Blaine is turning to stare at him with an inquisitive look on his face.

Blaine just… He just let it _go?_

"I, um." Kurt licks his lips, can't deal with looking straight at Blaine while Blaine is looking at him, and turns back to the dishes. "Yeah. I thought about going to summer school, but after my dad…" Blaine knows, but Kurt still doesn't say it, swallows around the words, "I just think it's better if I'm home. Him and my stepmom talked about maybe coming out here a week before fall semester starts, for a vacation." Kurt smiles at the idea of it. They wouldn't be spending their time by his campus, he knows, but they'd be there for at least a day. Kurt would love to show them around now that he knows the town better—the last time they'd been there is when they'd dropped him off.

"That sounds like it'll be fun."

"The _coming back_ part, yes, but I have no illusions about enjoying a summer in Ohio." Kurt pauses and thinks about it, before smiling a little bit. "At least I'll get to spend some time with my old friends." He made both Mercedes and Rachel swear up-and-down-and-backwards that they would come home for the summer, for at least a little bit. He _misses_ them, and it will be a great way to reconnect. He can tell them all about his disaster of a school year in person, and maybe they can have a sleepover and eat a lot of ice cream and do mud masks.

"Silver linings," Blaine supplies, and Kurt gives a nod.

He realizes that he could let the conversation die, or he could push it. Blaine is giving him the option here, and Kurt has _no idea_ why. He doesn't know why Blaine hasn't turned to him and given him the whole _I think it would be best_ speech, where Kurt gets banished from being a grader and ever interacting with Blaine again.

But that's not happening. So Kurt is going to take the little opening Blaine is giving him and _run_ with it.

"What about you? Any exciting plans for the summer?" It's so hard to sound casual when Kurt's heart feels like it's about to splinter his ribs apart.

"I got bullied into teaching the intro to Shakespeare class." Blaine sounds as excited as Kurt does at the prospect of an afternoon watching a baseball game (which is to say, not at all). "But teaching summer session pays well, so I can't complain."

"So you don't get any break?" Kurt frowns. Blaine works hard, from what he can tell, and he deserves some time off to rest and recuperate just as much as the next person.

"I do. I get some time right after the semester gets out, and right before we start up again in the fall." It almost sounds like Blaine is reassuring him, like he can tell that Kurt is worried.

"Any plans?" Kurt can't imagine that Blaine plans to do nothing—he lives right next to the ocean, the least he could do is roll a towel out on the sand and watch the waves. It's… Actually a very distracting image, even if Kurt knows nothing about Blaine's body underneath the polos and button-ups and sweaters and cardigans. Or that he ever realistically will.

He has a _good_ imagination though.

 _I probably shouldn't be using it_.

"None yet. I might go visit my brother—"

Kurt didn't know Blaine had a brother.

"—but I think I'll just catch up on all the books I don't have time to read over the year."

It shouldn't be surprising. Blaine is an _English_ professor—that he'd be an avid reader should be obvious. But with how much he talks about classic American literature, Kurt just always imagined that's all Blaine ever bothered reading. There really isn't a word for how Kurt feels about being proven wrong in this situation, but… He likes it. He likes it because it means he learning things about Blaine that he didn't know before.

"What do you like to read?" Kurt can't help but ask, is suddenly _hungry_ for that knowledge, and the way Blaine's eyes light up. It's the reason he makes such a good professor, Kurt thinks. Because he so obviously loves what he does.

And so Blaine tells him. He tells Kurt about all the books that he plans on reading, the ones he wants to read again, and things that are slated for release in the next year. He reads _everything_ , it seems—thrillers, horror, mystery, biographies, _romance_ , fantasy, young adult and teen. And then he's asking about what Kurt likes to read, and it's kind of embarrassing, because Kurt isn't nearly as much as a bibliophile as Blaine, and probably isn't even a _tenth_ as well read, so he bashfully admits to the copies of worn books he lugged with him from Ohio, what he still has perched on his bookshelf back home.

Somehow they get in on Kurt's Vogue collection (dating back to when he was 13, three copies per issue, one for reference and the other two for scrapbooking), which far outnumbers his book collection, and they're just _talking_. Kurt keeps up with it, but it feels as if he does so only barely. Behind his excitement and his running mouth, he feels a little stunned. He's spent time with Blaine before, but they never just… They've never done _this_. Before, Blaine was his understanding, sweet, hot professor-friend. Now he's… Now he's all those things and he's this _person_ , too, this fascinating person that Kurt realizes he's just now brushing the surface of.

How hadn't he realized before?

And why must he realize now, and make it so much harder to get away from the feelings that are wrapped around his heart like ropes of chain and thorns?

Kurt is so _fucked_.

"Aren't you guys _done_ yet?"

They both startle and turn at the same time, and there's Tina in the doorway, looking a little lopsided as she stands with her hands on her hips. Kurt realizes that the dishes are done—washed, dried, and put away. It looks like they even wiped down the counter some. His gloves are gone. They're just leaning against the counter and talking—Blaine had been telling him about the dog he had tried to adopt as a little boy by smuggling him into his house without his parents noticing, and how did they even _get_ there?

"You've spent most of the party in here."

Have they really?

"I'm sure we weren't missed," Blaine replies easily, pushing himself off the counter. "But we're coming. I think I need to be an adult and confiscate the alcohol before something bad happens." Tina makes a face, like she's suddenly nervous, and Blaine suddenly looks so much older as he asks, "What happened?"

"Nick just got a little _sick_ ," Tina replies, nervously, and Blaine sighs heavily. He looks back at Kurt with this look in his eyes that very clearly says, _What am I going to do with them?_ Like… Like Kurt isn't grouped in with _them_. He's grouped in with _Blaine_ , somehow.

How did that happen? _When_ did that happen?

"Where is he?" Blaine asks, as he starts to leave the kitchen, but he pauses under the archway separating it from the rest of the house and looks back at Kurt. "Are you coming?"

Kurt starts, and then nods jerkily, managing a, "Yeah!" as he goes slowly across the kitchen floor. Blaine is already back on adult-mode, disappearing into the crowd of college students, and leaving Kurt leaning against the wall and watching him.

He thinks about that sweater from Saks again, and how it's hanging in the closet of his single dorm. He remembers getting home from New York and doing any job people would give him to save up the money to get it. Because Kurt has always had a way with getting the things he wants.

Blaine looks harried across the room, and he looks up and catches Kurt's eyes, and gives a little smile.

Maybe Kurt shouldn't give up just yet.


	13. Loopholes

The thing about wanting something is that you have to _do_ something to get it.

Normally, this is the part where Kurt makes a game plan, a checklist, a series of steps to follow and cross-off as he gets closer to his goal.

A sweater is easy and straight forward.

Getting his professor to fall in love with him? That's a _little_ more complicated.

And Kurt doesn't even need that much (well, right now at least). All he wants, all he needs, is for Blaine to give him a _chance_. Just one. He won't even push for best out of three. He doesn't even need anything that complicated, or romantic, or even remotely date-like. All he's asking for is coffee, even if it's just coffee as _friends_. At this rate, he can't afford to be picky.

What he really needs is for Blaine to look at him and not see Kurt-the-student but Kurt-the-person. If Kurt can get Blaine to see that, then maybe he actually has a real shot at this.

But if that's a step, it's not a step he's even _close_ to yet.

It's frustrating, because this shouldn't be as hard as it is. Isn't he supposed to confess his feelings and everything just falls into place after that? Neat and magical and wonderful? _Ugh_ , movies have left him woefully unprepared for this. Kurt had confessed, and Blaine had—

Blaine had never turned him down. 

Blaine had _never turned him down_.

At least, not _really_. Said that their relationship was _supposed_ to stay professional and friendly? Yes. But he'd never straight out said _no_ , he'd never straight out told Kurt that he wasn't interested or that he didn't return Kurt's feelings.

(God, he _loves_ loopholes.)

How had Kurt missed how significant that was? He'd been moping about that lack of closure, about the hope it had left, but now that hope is like a spark to a fuse.

Blaine never turned him down, and if he didn't turn Kurt down then there _must_ be a reason for it. He'd misdirected and blatantly hadn't answered, and it's like an itch under Kurt's skin suddenly. It's fuel for that drive that people _know_ him for, and on the other end of it? Blaine.

It's a foothold. A start. All Kurt needs to figure out is where to go next.

*

Kurt meets Brynn at one of the sandwich places on campus, and then urges them to eat outside on the grass (where they aren't surrounded by other students and faculty members). It's an odd occurrence, because they've never hung out with one another outside of grading, but she's the only person Kurt can think to talk to that might actually be able to help him.

"Are you okay, Kurt?" She asks as they settle down on the blanket Kurt brought with him (discreetness is a must, but he's not about to subject his designer jeans to the elements), and Kurt pauses momentarily as he pops open the plastic container his salad is in. "You seem nervous."

Her smile is soft and slightly concerned when he looks at her.

"I wanted to ask you something," he says, which doesn't really answer her question but she doesn't mention it. Her face turns curious, but she doesn't say anything—just folds her hands in her lap and waits. "How did you and Toby meet?"

Brynn looks surprised by the question, and she blinks at him for a few moments before glancing around and passing her hands over the fabric of her (very lovely) skirt. Kurt waits for the inevitable _why_ that's sure to follow—him and Brynn aren't close, and him inviting her out to lunch is strange enough without the bizarrely personal questions.

"It was my first semester here, and I was taking a history class on western civilization… Just a general education thing, although I've always enjoyed history." She's still staring down at her hands, and her face looks a little flushed. "Toby was one of the TAs for the class, obviously, and he ended up being my TA, specifically." She fiddles with her skirt, and Kurt wants to reach out and stop her (that is definitely not good for the fabric), but they aren't those kind of friends.

Looking at her, Kurt can't even imagine how the story goes from something so innocent to them _dating_ , which is why he can't help but urge her on. "And then what happened?"

Brynn's eyes flick up to him for a moment.

"School is really important to me," she tells him. "In high school, I'd always been talking to my teachers, making sure I'd understood things if I had even the tiniest doubt. So when the first assignment came up, I went to Toby's office hours, and I just… Kept going back. Eventually, I went just to talk to him, even when there weren't any assignments at all." Her skin is turning pink, and Kurt has to wonder if that's how he looks when he blushes, if it's really so obvious—a part of him has always known, but it's different, seeing it on another person.

"So how did it…?" Kurt isn't sure how to ask how it went from that to _dating_ , but that's exactly what he wants to know—what he _needs_ to know.

"I… I've never _had_ a boyfriend before, so I didn't really know what was going on. I knew what I felt, but I didn't really know what was going on with him, you know?"

It takes a lot more will power than it should for Kurt not to groan out a _tell me about it_.

"There were… Little things, I guess. Things he would say, ways he would smile at me, casual touches to my shoulders or arms. Things that would have seemed inappropriate if I hadn't been, um, wanting them to happen." She's playing with her skirt again, a habit that Kurt is quickly realizing she does when she's nervous.

Kurt doesn't know what the rules are (and he should probably figure them out), but it occurs to him that Brynn might be putting a lot of trust in Kurt by telling him this story. He doesn't know if Toby is still a grad student here, or what kind of trouble he or Brynn could get in if their story was public knowledge, but Brynn is telling him with the hope that Kurt won't run and tell someone about it.

"So did he ask you out?" Kurt hedges, still desperate to know how the story ends, and Brynn let's out a little laugh.

"Oh, heaven's no. I… I think maybe he wanted to, and he's told me that he had, since, but he didn't. For obvious reasons." Her eyes dart down, and Kurt feels thoroughly confused. "I think maybe I realized that, and so… One day I asked him if he wanted to get lunch. It took me about ten minutes to do it, and I nearly fled the room when I finished, but… He said yes." Her lips curl up in a smile.

"You didn't have to convince him?" Kurt asks, feeling a little desperate, and Brynn gives him a strange look.

"Well… He did have doubts, of course. And so did I. There are… Well," she drops her voice low as she leans closer, "Rules about this, you know." For a moment, she looks so, so ashamed of herself. "He agreed to lunch, but I was the one who decided we should put it off. The second he had submitted my final grade, when he wasn't my TA anymore, we had our lunch. And it still took… Several lunches after that before it became much of anything." Brynn folds her hands together again and looks up at Kurt.

He's quiet, thinking about it, and wishing he'd done more research. He knows there are rules, but for some reason they never factored in to his search for an epic romance with his really attractive, amazing, perfect professor. Although, technically, Blaine isn't his professor anymore, so that has to count for something, right? But he needs to know what's he up against if he's going to move forward.

He brings the fork to his mouth and thoughtfully chews.

"Kurt?" Brynn's hand touches his lightly, and he shocks out of his thoughts to look at her. She seems unsure for a moment, but then smiles, and gives his hand a gentle squeeze. "Good luck."

He blanches, and splutters on his salad, thankful he's not drinking and choking on anything.

"W-what?" Panic wells inside of him, but Brynn just pats his hand before she turns back to her sandwich.

"Nothing, just. Good luck." She flashes him another smile, and then takes a bite of her lunch.

Kurt has no idea what to really make of it, and yet… It feels nice to have someone pulling for him.

*

Kurt scours the internet for the university's policy on student-professor relationships, and it takes him longer to find than he should. He's not sure if there would be repercussions for him as a student, but he doesn't bother looking right now. The worst thing they can do is kick him out, which, okay, is pretty bad, but so is Blaine getting _fired_.

There are a lot of pieces to the puzzle he wasn't seeing before, but… Kurt can work with that. Life isn't supposed to be easy, and neither is love, right?

He focuses on phrasing like, "Whenever a faculty member is **responsible for** **academic supervision** of a student," and prays that it's another loophole he can use to his advantage.

*

What it comes down to, in the end, is Kurt taking a risk and hoping it pans out. Confessing his feelings to Blaine had been a risk, of course, but he hadn't taken it with any expectations from it. When he'd told Blaine that he hadn't been looking for anything, he'd meant it. But that was _then_ , when it really did seem like just a silly crush that was causing Kurt more trouble than it was worth.

It just so happens that confessing to Blaine just made it harder for the feelings to go away, feelings that _definitely_ seem worth any sort of trouble the longer Kurt carries them with him.

But if he can take a risk, maybe… Well, maybe it will somehow inspire Blaine to do the same.

(It's worth a shot, right?)

It's the first time he's ever gone to Blaine's house without explicitly being invited, but Kurt has to do this in person. And if he's trying to get Blaine to see him as something other than just a student, visiting him at his office probably wouldn't be the best way to go about it.

From the second he steps up to Blaine's door and raises his hand to knock, all of his actions seem to gain weight. Kurt has felt nervous plenty of times over the course of… Well, whatever is going on between him and Blaine, but never like this. He let's a slow breath out through his lips and knocks.

The Blaine that answers the door is not a Blaine expecting company. His hair is disheveled (but still seems to have some amount of gel in it), he's wearing sweats that are obviously old and so big that they cover his (bare) feet, and just a t-shirt. If it wasn't just barely evening, Kurt would think he was going to bed.

For how slob-like and underdressed it is, things that Kurt more often turns his nose up at than towards, it makes Kurt's heart jump up in his throat for a moment. It feels intimate and vulnerable, two things that should not be at all addictive and yet somehow are when Blaine is the one offering them.

"Kurt." Blaine's eyes widen behind his glasses, face a mask of honest surprise. Kurt can't afford to let his attention slip, and notices the way Blaine tries to smooth out his hair. He's trying so hard not to read into it, but… Well, not reading into things has never really been his strong suit. "What are you do—"

"Do you want to go out for coffee?" Kurt says—it's rushed, but he manages to keep his voice even, maybe even a little confident. But it was what he came to say, to ask, what he _needed_ to get out before he could convince himself not to do it. And now, it's out. There's no taking back those words now.

Blaine stares at him, mouth parting and eyebrows furrowing. Kurt feels like his entire chest is _shrinking_.

"Kurt—"

"Before you say anything," Kurt rushes to cut him off, "Please just… Hear me out?" This is what he didn't do before. This is what he ran away from, what he left unsaid. It's his opening argument, his moment to be as persuasive as he can manage, and he needs to take it.

There's a pause, a moment where Kurt thinks that Blaine will just keep going, will cut him off and not give him a chance, but… He doesn't. His eyes flit around, almost nervously, and then he leans against the doorframe and tilts his head in a subtle acknowledgement.

One step at a time.

"This… This doesn't have to _be_ something. I can't make you feel something that you don't." _But maybe you do and you're hiding it_. "Before, I told you that I wasn't expecting anything, and that's still true, but it doesn't mean I don't _want_ things. But what I want more than anything is for you to just… Give it a shot. Even a little one. Even if the only thing it leads to is us being closer friends. So please. Have coffee with me."

It's not as eloquent as it should be, and Kurt wonders if he should have written it out, practiced it in front of a mirror, _something_. But he hadn't wanted it to seem rehearsed, like they weren't words coming straight from him and what he was feeling. Honesty is one of the best tools he has right now.

Blaine surveys him for a few quiet moments, just long enough that Kurt feels like he might start fidgeting. Then again, if Blaine was just going to shut him down, he would have done it already, right?

"You said you wanted things, though. You want this to be a date."

It's not a question, but Kurt still tips his chin up slightly, looks Blaine straight in the eye, and says, "Absolutely."

At least Blaine looks a little taken aback by that. If this was a competition, Kurt would totally get a point for that.

"I thought we agreed not to make this weird." But there's something in Blaine's voice, a bit of give that Kurt wants to press against until it breaks apart.

"I don't think that's possible." Kurt smiles, but it comes out more besotted than apologetic. "I don't think we can ever just have a normal student-teacher relationship, Blaine. But friends?" _It's a start_. "So have coffee with me, get to know me. Let's get to know _each other_."

Blaine bites his lip, and Kurt tries not to stare.

"I don't know what you want me to say here, Kurt." Blaine looks at him like he's feeling torn, and the indecision is like food to a starving man—Kurt descends on it.

"I want you to say yes." His smile is teasing this time. "Obviously."

Again, Blaine seems surprised by the answer, and his eyebrows shoot up.

And then, the best thing of Kurt's life happens (well, his life so far).

Blaine smiles and asks, "When?"

At least. That's what Kurt _thinks_ he says, there's no way he actually—

"Wait, what?"

"I said, when? When do you want to have coffee?"

Kurt's eyeballs nearly fall out of his head.

"Seriously?" Kurt's voice goes higher, and at the amused look on Blaine's face, he coughs, stands straighter, and puts on a nonchalant air. "I mean, you know, whenever is good for you." Kurt hadn't really gotten to that part. He kind of never expected Blaine to _actually agree_.

"Friday night?" Blaine says it like he doesn't believe he's actually saying it, and the look must be mirrored back because Kurt doesn't believe he's saying it, either. It has to be a dream—it _has_ to be. "I know a place." Blaine closes his eyes at the phrasing, even though it makes Kurt's heart nearly hammer out of his chest. "I can email you the address and—"

"Or." Kurt reaches into his back pocket, and then steps closer. His body feels like it's going to shake apart as he takes Blaine's hand and presses a piece of paper into it. "You can text me."

Kurt just gave Blaine his _number_. Kurt has maybe done this dance a total of three times, but never to someone like Blaine. Never someone who made him feel like a simple touch would make him fall apart.

"Well, okay then." Blaine's voice is softer, and Kurt starts stepping back. He suddenly feels like he needs to get away, like the longer he stands there, the longer Blaine has to change his mind. "I'll see you Friday." He pauses. "As friends."

"A-as friends. Right. Yeah." Kurt's smile flutters, hesitant and shy, and waits until Blaine has shut the door before he lets himself turn around.

He wants to jump, he wants to shout, he wants to _scream_ —he wants to go _shopping_ , because what on earth is he going to wear? He's going for _coffee_ , with _Blaine_ , and while Blaine might not want to date Kurt right now, Kurt is going to do everything in his power to change Blaine's mind by the end of the night.

 _Game on_.


	14. Something

There are two and a half days between when Kurt invites Blaine to coffee and when they will actually _go_ to coffee. Every minute is excruciating agony from all the nervous anxiety he's feeling, a combination of waiting for the actual evening and waiting for the impending text/call/email/singing telegram from Blaine telling him it's not happening after all.

And then it's Friday, and Blaine hasn't canceled, and Kurt lets himself come to terms with the fact that this is _actually_ happening. Him and Blaine are going on a _date_.

Well. They're going to get coffee. As friends. A friend-date. But Kurt is hoping that he'll eventually graduate to a date-date level, and so he plans to use their coffee outing as practice.

After all, if Blaine realizes what it's like to date Kurt, surely he'll give in and go on a date with him. It makes perfect sense.

But it makes Friday night that much more nerve-wrecking. It takes Kurt three hours to craft the perfect outfit, one that makes him look a little older while still being very much _him_. Plus, it's flattering to the point that Kurt thinks he'll get _at least_ a once-over from Blaine (maybe, hopefully, more).

Before Kurt feels ready (although Kurt's not sure if he'd _ever_ feel ready), it's time to go.

*

The coffee shop that Blaine had texted him the address of (Blaine _texted_ him, Kurt knows Blaine's _cell phone number_ ) is about a half hour away in the opposite direction of downtown, aka the direction no one from school ever goes in. Kurt can't help but wonder if it's a place Blaine chose because it's someplace he just generally likes, or… Well, that it's in the direction no one from school ever goes in—it isn't very likely that anyone, student or otherwise, will see them together.

Kurt reminds himself that if him and Blaine were to have any sort of relationship that went past whatever it is they have right now not being seen by people would probably become the norm. It's a heavy reminder of what a relationship with Blaine would entail, really—restrictions, lies, secrets. For the first time, Kurt feels the sudden wave of panic that accompanies not knowing whether or not he could really _do_ this. 

It's not as if he hasn't thought about the cons—he's _Kurt Hummel_ , of course he has. But cons don't look nearly so intimidating when they're for a goal that seems so unlikely to be reached. Kurt feels so close to it, to _Blaine_ , that all of his insecurities are welling up inside of him like a hurricane. Standing on the brink of this, of everything that could be and _might_ be, Kurt's suddenly unsure about whether or not he can take that final step.

He's so close to stopping himself, to turning around and letting go of all of it, letting go of everything he's been working toward—letting go of _Blaine_. 

And then, he sees Blaine through the window of the coffee shop, and it's like a rubber band snapping back into place. Seeing him there, head bent low as he reads a book and reminding Kurt very much of the first time he ever saw Blaine (sans the beard, of course), Kurt doesn't know how he ever thought he could convince himself that walking away was the best idea.

As Kurt walks into the coffee shop, he wishes he could _actually_ steel his nerves—they suddenly feel a lot like jello.

"Good book?" Kurt asks as he comes to a stop by the table where Blaine is sitting, and Blaine's head snaps up in surprise—he looks so young in that moment, it's no wonder that Kurt once mistook him for a student.

There's a pause as Blaine takes him in, and Kurt feels a trill run up his spine—it's as exhilarating as it is overwhelming. It might not be Blaine checking him out (then again, it very well could be, what does Kurt know?), but at the very least, he's _looking_ , and that's a start.

"Um." Blaine looks away after a few seconds ( _longer than a friend would look_ , Kurt notes) and closes his book without placing a marker in it. "It's interesting, so far. I've only just started, but I've heard good things."

"Starting on that book reading early, I see," Kurt observes, and this is… It's _okay_. He's nervous, yeah, but at the same time, it feels weirdly right. Blaine gives him a semi-impressed look, like he didn't expect Kurt to remember something Blaine said in the past, and Kurt can't help but smile a little bit.

"I have a lot of books to get through," Blaine replies with a small grin, and then he gestures toward the chair across from him. He's inviting Kurt to sit. Because this is _actually_ happening.

Kurt doesn't know if it'll ever actually sink in, and he's inclined to pinch himself if it wouldn't be a weird thing to do right in front of Blaine.

"You're probably the most well-read person I know," Kurt tells him. "Just so you know." He shifts his weight from foot to foot for a moment, debating. "I'm actually going to get something to drink. Do you… Want something?" Asking Blaine if he wants coffee shouldn't be more terrifying than asking him _to_ coffee, and yet somehow Kurt's heart feels like it's about to do a swan dive out of his mouth.

Blaine blinks at him, and Kurt can just imagine him weighing the pros and cons against one another, what it would mean for him to accept Kurt's offer, what kind of hope it might instill, what—

"That sounds great, actually." When Blaine smiles this time, it's a little tenser, and Kurt feels like maybe they've taken some kind of step backward. "Just a regular drip is fine."

Kurt wrinkles his nose without meaning to, and Blaine makes a noise that's somewhere between amused and defensive before huffing out a, " _What?_ "

"That's just…" _Such a grown-up drink_ , is what Kurt almost says, but realizes just how bad of an idea that would be before it happens. Yeah, remind the older guy he has a crush on that he's _older_ , that'll improve his odds. "Not really my thing," he decides to say, and Blaine's smile comes a little easier now.

"It's an accustomed taste, I'll give you that. Why? What is your taste?"

And Kurt doesn't expect _that_. He, well, he didn't really know _what_ to expect tonight. But for Blaine to be acting like this—not humoring him, or playing along, or reminding Kurt every other second that _no_ , he has a snowball's chance in _hell_ … Kurt isn't sure what to make of it yet, but he likes it, even if it has him walking a fine line between giggling and vomiting.

"I guess you'll find out," Kurt dares to say, dares to _flirt_ , and is pleased when Blaine looks surprised (but not disgusted, or distressed, or anything _negative_ ) in return. The more times he surprises Blaine tonight, the better… Or, so he's chosen to believe.

"Wait—" Blaine starts as Kurt turns toward the counter, and he looks over his shoulder to see Blaine lifting a wallet out of his back pocket.

And _this_ , this isn't a friends-having-coffee-for-the-first-time thing. It's a date thing. But Kurt does it, anyway. "It's on me." And then walks away before Blaine can argue with it.

He breathes deeply through the entire process of getting their coffee, and is as close to calm as he could possibly manage by the time he makes it back to the table.

Where Blaine promptly grabs for both drinks and sips each one in turn. Kurt stands still, watching him with wide eyes as Blaine's tongue seems to roll around in his mouth, face contemplative.

"Mocha?" Blaine narrows his eyes, glances down at the drinks, and then back up at Kurt. "Non-fat milk?"

Kurt lets out a disbelieving laugh before finally sitting down (and _oh god,_ his foot is _really close_ to one of Blaine's feet), and then grabs for his coffee.

"How did you do _that?_ " Kurt asks, staring at Blaine like he's never really seen him before. Blaine shrugs, managing to look both smug and bashful at the same time.

"I've had a _lot_ of coffee in my lifetime. I actually worked in a coffee shop for a few years while I went through college."

Kurt rests his chin in his palm, and looks at Blaine with interest.

"I bet you have some great stories," Kurt hedges, and Blaine let's out a little laugh before he easily concedes and starts to tell one.

Kurt listens and can't help but think about how Blaine's mouth touched the lip of his coffee as he takes a sip.

*

Their first coffees go faster than Kurt would expect, given how much they're talking.

Blaine insists on buying the next round, and Kurt can't even make himself protest as propriety would dictate—instead, he blushes (probably pretty noticeably, the coffee shop has _great_ lighting) and says, "Thank you," in a completely breathless voice.

Then Blaine gives Kurt a plain drip and tells him to try it, and Kurt thinks it's a sign of how head-over-heels he is that he agrees to it.

(He ends up adding a ton of milk, and sugar, and then, at Blaine's advising, cinnamon, until he can stomach it. Blaine makes fun of him in a way that somehow doesn't feel belittling the entire time.)

Kurt dares that, for their third drinks, they both try something new, and they both go up to the counter that time. By then, it feels like they've been at the coffee shop for hours—Kurt's not sure exactly how long it's been, seeing as he hasn't felt the desire to pull his phone out since he got there. The nerves that had been there through the first coffee are gone, replaced with a comfortable warmth. Which might just be from the coffee, but Kurt's decided to believe it's from being with Blaine, too.

Because spending time with Blaine is phenomenal. That person that Kurt had just started scratching the surface of that night in the kitchen is coming out, is revealing himself, and… And that's not a fair way to look at it at all. Blaine has always been this person, Kurt's just never had the opportunity to see it before.

He's so, _so_ glad that he got one.

And if this is who he's seeing Blaine for, does that mean that maybe, possibly, Blaine is seeing Kurt for who _he_ actually is?

Blaine gets something with carmel, and Kurt tries a white mocha, and a few sips into it they decide they weren't _horrible_ decisions before switching drinks altogether and realizing they like the other's much better than their own.

Kurt's mouth has touched the same spot as Blaine's several times now, and they might as well have kissed already.

The thought hits him out of nowhere and makes him blush—like every other time Kurt has blushed this evening, Blaine doesn't mention it.

His coffee has gone cold, and he's telling Blaine about how him and Rachel Berry became friends (and unsure how they even got to this point, really), and Blaine is listening while also just barely holding a laugh behind an amused smile.

"—there is no comparison for how ugly those sweaters were, Blaine. I'm not sure how we ever got a friendship past those, really, they were… They were just offensive to the human eye, all right? Yet somehow…" Kurt makes a gesture with his wrist.

"She's your best friend," Blaine finishes, and his voice almost sounds… Fond. Or are Kurt's ears tricking him?

"Unfortunately, but also fortunately. There is no one on earth like Rachel Berry, and there is no one on earth like _me_ , so it really just… Works, I suppose. She gets me in ways other people don't." Kurt curls his hands around his cold coffee cup. "Although she didn't really get it when I gave of performing, and still doesn't… Still tries to get me to change my mind." Kurt smiles wryly at the surface of the table. "So I guess there isn't anyone who _really_ understands me."

It's one of those things that Kurt has longed for since high school, that one ideal that's kept him a hopeless romantic, that's kept him believing in things like soulmates and true loves. Through every struggle he's had, every harsh word and shove, he's always thought that _someday_ , there would be someone to just… Accept, to understand, to _love_. It's completely idealistic, he knows that, especially as he gets older, but it's a hard dream to let go of.

There's a touch to his hand, just something tentative and barely there, and it has Kurt looking up at Blaine, face taken-aback.

"There will be. Someday."

There's a lump in Kurt's throat suddenly, and he feels like he might start choking on it. His eyes flick down to where Blaine has two fingertips pressed against the back of Kurt's hand, just hard enough that Kurt's skin gives a little bit.

"I, um…" Kurt blabbers, feeling flustered and overwhelmed and so suddenly terrified. _I want it to be you._ "More coffee?" He blurts, lifting his cup and sufficiently breaking the contact between them.

Blaine stares at him, and Kurt somehow manages to stare back, coffee cup still held up in the air and shaking subtly from side-to-side as Kurt's wrist flicks slightly.

Kurt doesn't know what Blaine sees in that moment, but whatever it is, it makes him look down, fishing for something in his pocket before Kurt watches him pull out his phone.

"Probably not," Blaine responds, frowning at his phone. The way he says it, it's like he doesn't _want_ the night to end, and Kurt is pulled back from that spot (too deep, too vulnerable, too _close_ ) and toward the giddy feeling that having a crush, and being out with said crush, gives him. "It's already 10pm, and I think I'll be up all night as it is," he jokes, and Kurt's eyes bug.

"10pm? Already?" He scrambles to get his own phone out, like he doesn't believe it, but sure enough… It's true. He finally looks around at the coffee shop, and notices that it's nearly empty, save for them and the two baristas left behind to clean up. Kurt feels a bit of guilt for holding them up, but… It's hard to feel _too_ guilty, given the reason.

But it being that late means that… "Oh." Kurt deflates, as he realizes their night is coming to an end. His mind whirls for anything that could make it last, even a few more minutes, and bites his lip. "Are you sure you don't want one more? For the road?"

Blaine laughs a little bit. "Seriously. I'm never going to get to sleep tonight."

"Maybe we shouldn't," Kurt says in a rush, and then reflects back on what he said and— _shit_ , that sounds worse than he means it. Blaine looks a little shell-shocked, and Kurt blushes as he elaborates. "Like, we could… Watch a movie. Or go through all that reality TV you confessed to having on your DVR." That Kurt had confessed to liking just as much, so Blaine really has no reason to look vaguely ashamed at Kurt mentioning it again.

"I don't know, Kurt… It's late."

It's like watching a house of cards collapse in front of him. Kurt has spent so much time meticulously putting it together, and somehow he's knocked something astray. The disappointment that wells within him feels thick and like it will bring him to tears.

"It's Friday," Kurt counters. Plus, he's an… Adult. It's not like he has a bed time or anything.

"I agreed to coffee," Blaine continues, averting his eyes for a moment, and Kurt feels like maybe he's gaining ground.

That, or maybe Blaine's arguments are as weak as they sound.

"I never heard stipulations for _only_ coffee." Kurt stares hard at him for a few seconds, and then his face softens. "It's just hanging out a little longer, Blaine. I'm not in any rush to get back to my dorm. I… I'm really enjoying tonight, and I was kind of under the impression that you were, too?" Kurt feels a little desperate as he says it, and Blaine glances at him, looking torn. Kurt has no idea what's going through his head, could only begin to guess and would probably still miss the mark.

"Just a movie," Kurt promises. "Or a few episodes of a TV show. I just… Don't want to stop talking to you yet." And maybe that was a bit much. Maybe Kurt pushed too far, the final blow to his tower, a nudge meant to fix it rather than crumple it to the ground.

So he expects Blaine to say no after those few moments of silence.

Instead, he dips his head slightly and murmurs, "All right."

*

The nerves come back with a vengeance.

They haven't been alone—really, _truly_ alone—since the night Kurt confessed, Kurt asking Blaine to coffee aside. But this is just the two of them in the private of Blaine's house. At night. No one else there, no one else expected to be there, no real _chance_ of someone else being there at any time. And no one knowing Kurt is there, either.

He's already at Blaine's house by the time he feels close to hyperventilating, but he closes himself and forces himself to breathe instead.

He's just freaking out. Just like before the coffee shop, and look how well that had gone? Kurt just needs more time like this, just them being _them_ , no labels or rules between them, and eventually Blaine will see, won't he? He'll see what Kurt sees, and maybe even feel what he feels?

(Kurt can dream, can't he?)

Blaine is waiting outside for him, looking expectantly toward where Kurt is just sitting in his car, and that's the final kick Kurt needs to get himself in gear. It seems like, today, looking at Blaine is enough to force him to get himself together.

They stare at each other for a few heartbeats before Blaine goes to open the door, and there's… _Something_. Something there that wasn't there before. It's like a word at the tip of Kurt's tongue as he follows Blaine inside, but he doesn't grasp it until the door shuts behind him, when him and Blaine are standing for a few seconds in complete darkness that feels too warm and stifling—like it might suffocate them.

It's tension, and it doesn't dissipate when Blaine reaches the light switch a few seconds later and heads into the living room. What kind of tension, Kurt isn't exactly sure (although, if he had to pick, there's certainly one he would prefer over the others).

Kurt doesn't know where it came from. After all, the night went well—really well, actually, better than Kurt ever hoped it would. It might have been proposed as an outing between friends, but it hadn't felt like that. Maybe it was the buying-coffee-for-each-other thing, or the way they would lean toward one another as they spoke, or the way he could make Blaine laugh, or smile, or, on a few occasions, blush like he wasn't twelve years Kurt's senior. 

It had felt like a date, the best first date Kurt could have imagined, much less _went_ on. Even if it wasn't a first date, which is a really hard fact to remember given, well, _everything_. The way Blaine had said certain things, or looked at Kurt, or how sometimes his bright, happy smile had shifted into something… Soft, _tender_ even, that made Kurt's insides feel like molten chocolate.

When Kurt had gone into this, it had been with a hope, but it feels like this isn't just a gamble now. After all, Blaine said yes—not just to coffee, but to hanging out longer? Never mind that Kurt had needed to do some persuading; he'd hardly gotten started when Blaine had caved. Wouldn't he have put up more of a fight if he didn't want to do these things? If he didn't want to spend time with Kurt?

Plus, he knows how Kurt feels, and this time there are no pretenses. He knows what Kurt wants, what he _wants_ tonight to be, and he'd still said yes.

If Blaine doesn't feel even a little something for him, it just wouldn't add up. It's the missing variable in this equation, the one that Kurt really hopes is the answer.

"Go ahead and sit," Blaine invites as he walks further into the room, pushing the sleeves of his collared shirt up to his elbows (the warmth, apparently, isn't just from the tension that Kurt feels surrounded by—it's actually _really_ warm) as he flips on a fan and goes to crack a window. Kurt just watches him for a few moments, feels the urge to do things like… Run his fingers all Blaine's newly revealed skin, or wrap his arms around Blaine from behind.

He shakes the image from his head, and then sits rigidly on Blaine's couch as he waits, breathing slow and deep as he comes to terms with what he wants to do—what he suddenly feels he has the courage to do.

"So did you—"

"Can I talk to you about something?" Kurt asks, before Blaine can even finish his question. Blaine stares at him, and as Kurt looks back, he realizes how dim the lights are. Had Blaine left them dim because they'd been planning to watch a movie? Or… Or had it been for another reason?

Blaine seems to know immediately what Kurt plans to talk about, if the way his body tenses is any indication (and if that didn't give it away, the silence that stretches after Kurt asks would). It feels like another piece of the puzzle, though, when Blaine nods and comes to sit on the couch beside him.

Blaine could have made him leave. Blaine could have stopped him.

He didn't.

"I thought you were a student the first time we met," Kurt begins, and instead of staring at his lap the way he really wants to, he looks straight at Blaine. Blaine isn't looking back at first, but he seems startled by the way Kurt is starting. He looks over, and their eyes lock. "I know you know that, and I was… Mortified when I realized who you were. I almost dropped the class." He laughs dryly, eyes closing for a brief moment at the shock of hurt that drives through him at the _thought_ of not staying in Blaine's class, of not becoming a grader, of getting to know him…

When he opens his eyes, Blaine is still staring steadily at him. Hearing him out. It makes Kurt feel a little more at ease, that Blaine is at least letting him say his piece.

"I didn't even… I don't know when I started having a crush on you, but I didn't even realize until you, uh, asked me to be your grader." At this point, Kurt does glance away for a moment, cheeks heating up. "God, the way you were talking, I thought you were… Propositioning me."

Blaine splutters, suddenly, and even his face looks a little red when Kurt looks at him.

"I realize now that that was me, uh, projecting. Just a bit." _Or a lot_. "Long story short, I got a crush on you, and you… You know that. Because I told you, and _god_ , that feels like… So long ago now. And maybe doing that, the way I acted, the way you _reacted_ , it should have… Made it go away. But it didn't." Kurt's fingers curl in the fabric of the couch, and he bites his lip.

Blaine notices, and Kurt notices that he notices.

"It got worse, actually. It… It's not some silly little crush anymore, Blaine. This? What I feel? It's… This is _real_. And maybe I wasn't so sure at first, but after tonight… You can't tell me you don't feel anything." Kurt's not sure how he went from telling a story to, well, accusations, but he's there, he said it, this is what's happening.

"Kurt…" Blaine starts, and he looks away, and Kurt suddenly feels _frustrated_ , like he wants to grab Blaine's face and make him look Kurt in the eye.

But this time, instead of biting back the inclination, Kurt does exactly what he wants to—he reaches forward, grabs Blaine by the chin, and makes him look at Kurt.

"Tell me you don't feel anything towards me," Kurt demands, voice softer. It's not what he wants to hear, not at all, but he's putting all of this out there, all of this on the line—he's gambling it all away in this very second. "Look me in the eye, and tell me that."

"…Kurt, I can't—"

"No." Kurt's voice goes stern, and it's hard to imagine that, in that second, he's the younger one. "Either you don't or you do, Blaine. This isn't about whether you can't or not."

"Kurt, there are rules—"

"And I know them," Kurt retorts, glad he had the foresight to look into it. It definitely helps his arguments. "And you know what? If that's the _only_ thing holding you back, then… I quit." Blaine's eyes widen, like he doesn't quite understand. "As of today, I'm no longer your grader. So, as of today, you aren't responsible for me in any way that could get you in trouble." Kurt had known it would come to this, but… Being with Blaine is more important than some extra money.

"Kurt—" Blaine sounds a little desperate suddenly, like Kurt has destroyed the ground he was standing on. And maybe he was. If the rules were the only thing keeping Kurt from Blaine…

But maybe that's just what Blaine was hiding behind. Maybe it was the basis for all the things he thought were keeping him away from Kurt.

Kurt scoots closer, and Blaine looks so scared—of Kurt? of what he represents? of what he could be? Kurt doesn't know for sure.

"What are you so afraid of?" Kurt asks, his voice quiet. "I… I think I could make you happy. I know that you could make me happy. And maybe that sounds a little… Crazy, or romantic, but that's just… That's me. And I really think you should give me a chance." Kurt's hand slides to cup Blaine's cheek, and something indescribable blooms inside of him as Blaine tips subconsciously into the touch. "I think you should give _us_ a chance." Kurt's eyes search Blaine's, a little surprised he's still looking. "Don't you?"

Blaine is quiet, and Kurt knows there's a clock somewhere in the room, has seen it before, but now he can hear it ticking far, _far_ too loudly.

"Just a chance, Blaine." Kurt's voice has dropped to a whisper now. "Please." Blaine's eyes close on the word, and Kurt's entire body cavity feels like it's been dipped in lead. If he was dropped in the ocean, he's sure he would sink straight to the bottom.

Kurt's not sure what else to say, whether he has anything _left_ to say that would make any difference. A breath gusts out of him as he finally lowers his eyes, and he feels like he might start laughing just to keep from crying.

He starts to pull his hand away when something stops him, though—well, _someone_. Blaine's hand curls over his, keeping it on Blaine's cheek, and Kurt looks back up, unable to keep the hope that starts to fill him like a balloon.

Blaine's hand pulls away, but then he's coming to cradle Kurt's face, both hands cupping his cheeks and thumbs stroking gently against the skin. Kurt's breath hitches and his hand drops limply, not doing far as it hits Blaine's shoulder. Kurt thinks maybe his hand grasps at the fabric there, but he can't be sure, because Blaine is _touching_ him. The touch is purposeful, and not fleeting, and not meant as a friendly gesture (friends generally don't grab their friends faces).

"Okay," Blaine finally says, voice barely loud enough to be said, and Kurt's not even sure if he actually hears it or if he's just imagining it—it definitely sounds like something he'd imagine. Blaine's thumbs are still lightly stroking his cheekbones, and Kurt doesn't fight to keep his eyes from closing—his eyelashes flutter, and then shut, and he breathes deeply. It feels like a dream.

"Okay, Kurt," he hears Blaine say, and if this is a dream, then it's a _good_ dream. "Kurt?"

Kurt smiles and hums softly.

"Kurt." Blaine sounds amused. "Open your eyes."

Reluctantly, Kurt does, and Blaine is right there, closer than he's ever been, and he's smiling—still tentative, but smiling.

"Okay," Blaine says for a third time, and it starts to sink in then. It starts to hit Kurt what Blaine is actually saying, what he's _actually_ agreeing to, and so many things flood and jump and swirl and explode inside of Kurt that he's either going to run a marathon or black out.

Before he can say anything though, Blaine moves even closer, and then he's kissing Kurt. Kurt's mouth had been hanging open, and his eyes go cross-eyed trying to look at Blaine when he's so close before they finally shut.

It's not how Kurt imagined—it's not soft, and tentative, or anything that their relationship has felt like to this point. It's not even what Kurt expects from a first kiss with anyone, in fact. It's sure, and a little hard, and it feels like there's more behind it than Kurt understands. But he yields to it, isn't really sure he has any other option, and even if it's _not_ like he expected, that doesn't stop it from being _good_.

Besides, Kurt didn't ask for what he _expected_. He didn't ask for perfect.

He asked for _something_ , and something is exactly what he got.


	15. Where We Start From

Kurt Hummel's life is  _perfect_.

His dad's health is getting better, his GPA is high, and,  _oh yeah_ , he's dating the guy he's been half in love with for the last six months. And maybe it's wrong that it's the last little tidbit that has him grinning like an idiot and saying hello to strangers, but so what? He's  _happy_.

Sure, he doesn't have a job anymore. The extra cash had been nicer than he'd realized, but the semesters almost over and he'll look into finding a new job when he comes back in the fall.

There's that, too—the school year is ending, which means finals and projects and papers and basically just  _a lot_  of time-consuming stuff. And the end of the school year also means that Kurt has about three months in  _Ohio_  ahead of him.

Not only does Kurt not have a lot of extra time to spend with Blaine before the end of the semester, but he's going to be separated from him by thousands of miles for practically the entire summer. That's definitely not how Kurt imagined the start of his relationship with Blaine going.

Then again, Kurt hardly dared to dream there would ever even  _be_  a start of a relationship with Blaine, and just the fact that there is usually puts him in high spirits again.

*

It had been kind of a no-brainer that their relationship would be a secret. Kurt had known, going into it, that Blaine probably wasn't going to throw him a ticker tape parade through the university center. They might not be breaking any official rules (to Kurt's knowledge), but that doesn't mean they should tempt fate.

But  _knowing_  something and actually  _doing_  it are very different things.

Kurt is so ridiculously  _happy_  that he feels like a balloon about to pop. A very, very, giddy, laughter-filled, happy balloon. Not only that, but he  _wants_  to pop. He wants to tell absolutely everyone what's happened in almost overly vivid detail, wants to drag Blaine around by the wrist and proclaim to the world, "Look! Look what I have! I am the luckiest guy on the planet!"

…and he absolutely can't do any of those things.

After the kissing (and there was  _a lot_  of kissing, none of which Kurt had any problem with), Blaine had made it very clear that he wanted to keep whatever was between them on the down-low. Again, Kurt had expected this, and, at the time, had been so dazed at Blaine even  _agreeing_  that he'd nodded dumbly and just tried to get back to kissing.

(Blaine seemed to have no problem with all of the kissing, either.)

Even if it's the right thing to do, that doesn't stop it from putting a damper on things. His friends, people in his classes, and even a few of his professors notice the spring in his step and the smile on his face, and he just has to pass it off as being excited about summer plans or stumbling across a really good deal online.

It's not ideal, but relationships are all about compromise, right? Besides, the last thing he wants is for there not to be a relationship at all because he can't keep his mouth shut when it's most important.

*

 **Kurt:  
**     I have a proposal.

 **Blaine:  
**     Should I be worried?

 **Kurt:  
**      No?

 **Blaine:  
**      That sounds very reassuring.

 **Kurt:**  
     Ha ha  
     You're so funny.

 **Blaine:**  
     I know.  
     :)  
     Now what was this about a proposal?  
     Shouldn't you be down on one knee?

 **Kurt:**  
     …  
     Did you just make a marriage joke?

 **Blaine:  
**      If I say no, can we pretend I didn't?

 **Kurt:**  
     Not really, no.  
     But for the sake of my sanity, I'm going to pretend anyway.

 **Blaine:**  
     All right.  
     So what was it you were going to say?

 **Kurt:**  
     Oh.  
     Right.  
     Would it be okay to tell people there is someone?

 **Blaine:  
**      There is someone?

 **Kurt:**  
     You know.  
     Someone.  
     That I'm interested in.  
     Possibly seeing.

 **Blaine:  
**      Oh.

 **Kurt:**  
     Blaine?  
     Are you still there?  
     It was just an idea.  
     You can forget it.  
     It was stupid.  
     I guess I'm just a little happy and I don't like lying about why.  
     It would still be vague.  
     I wouldn't use your name or tell people anything about you.  
     Just that the reason I can't stop smiling is a person and not the fact that school is almost over.  
     For once I am definitely not smiling because of that.

 **Blaine:  
**      You can't stop smiling?

 **Kurt:**  
     He lives!  
     Did I say that?

 **Blaine:  
**      You did.

 **Kurt:**  
     It's not like you didn't know.  
     I feel embarrassed now.

 **Blaine:**  
     Don't.  
     I'm glad I make you smile, Kurt.

 **Kurt:  
**      You made me smile right then.

 **Blaine:**  
     :)  
     And okay.

 **Kurt:**  
     Okay????  
     I never knew the same word could keep having the same effect on me.

 **Blaine:  
**      Effect?

 **Kurt:  
**      Just to be clear, you mean that I can tell people there is someone?

 **Blaine:**  
     Well there is someone.  
     Isn't there?

 **Kurt:  
**      I'd say so.

 **Blaine:  
**      So would I.

*

Finals suck.

Not only because their finals, but also because they suck up all of Kurt's free time. He's a good student, and he wants to remain a good student, but at the same time he just wants to yell, "Fuck it!" and go sit with Blaine. They only have a few weeks left and then Kurt is gone, and Kurt feels nothing but annoyance and frustration at the thought that he'll be spending all of that precious time making notecards and sniffing highlighter fumes.

But even if Kurt was realistically willing to blow off studying (which, at the end of the day, he's not, however tempting it is), that doesn't mean Blaine is going to have the time. A downside to dating a professor is that finals season gets hectic for them, too—maybe not in the same way as for students, but it's still busy. Kurt knows that Blaine has extended his office hours to more days and is hosting several review sessions, not to mention providing support for final papers.

It makes Kurt miss being a grader more than the sudden lack of disposable income. Being a grader for Blaine was an excuse to be around him, especially when he was swamped with grading and  _needed_  them. He feels a little bad, quitting on Blaine and the team right before finals, but… Well, he had his reasons, and Blaine had been  _very_  understanding.

(At least, at the beginning. Kurt has the feeling that Blaine has more to say on the matter, and Kurt really doesn't want to give him the opportunity. Kurt can't work for Blaine  _and_  date him—it's against the rules, and Kurt is not letting them get between him and Blaine again.)

…then again, seeing each other is totally an excuse for him to see Blaine, isn't it?

*

"Knock-knock," Kurt calls as he taps a knuckle against Blaine's door, pushing it open at the same time. It feels like it's been  _forever_  since he's been in here, but it's only been a few months. Not since… Well, since Blaine had hugged him, and that had been when everything had really started changing?

Blaine is seated at his desk, one hand shoved into his gelled down hair as he stares intently at something on his laptop. At the sound of Kurt's entrance, he looks up, going from startled to pleasantly surprised as a smile spreads across his lips.

"Kurt." The way Blaine says his name makes something warm and smooth slide through Kurt. He gestures behind him at the door in a silent question, and Blaine nods. Kurt closes the door and, for good measure, locks it. Just in case. He's glad the lock isn't ridiculously loud, because he doesn't want Blaine to think he's  _implying_  anything. He's just… Being cautious.

"I wasn't expecting to see you today," Blaine says. He sounds tired, and it pulls at that part of Kurt that's always been a little worrisome.

"I wasn't expecting to see you  _any_  day in the near future, so I decided to change that." Kurt walks over, and wishes he didn't have to sit so  _far_  from Blaine. Compared to sitting side-by-side on a couch in intimate lighting, a desk between them might as well be the Atlantic ocean.

"How proactive of you," Blaine compliments, a twinkle in his eye, and Kurt rolls his own.

"I brought you something," he sing-songs, and then sets the cup he's holding down on the desk before scooting it toward Blaine.

"Is this—"

"Coffee?" Kurt smiles softly as he meets Blaine's eyes. "Yes. I know how much you've been working lately. I thought you could use it." Kurt's pretty sure that Blaine could drink a whole carafe of coffee and still need more at this point, but… Well, he did the best he could. He's not sure how Blaine feels about redeyes, but he'd had the barista put in about four shots of espresso in Blaine's usual drip.

Blaine looks genuinely touched by the gesture, and it makes Kurt want to ask a lot of stupid questions. Blaine's in his 30s—surely someone, at some point, brought him coffee in the past, right? But rather than think about it or, worse, ask, Kurt pushes it from his mind. Blaine appreciates the gesture Kurt made, and he'll focus on that instead of making his insecurities worse.

"And that's not all," Kurt continues in his best imitation of a gameshow host. He holds up a brown bag, and then sets it on the desk as well. "A croissant, a chocolate chip cookie, a blueberry muffin, and in case you hate all of those things… An apple."

Blaine laughs as he draws said apple from the bag, and then grins at Kurt.

"You brought me an  _apple?_ "

"Too cliché?" But Kurt just smiles, as if he doesn't care.

"I've actually never gotten one." Blaine tosses the apple in the air with one hand and catches it with the other before setting it down. Kurt feels a weird sense of pleasure at being the first person to ever bring Blaine an apple—isn't he just the teacher's pet? It makes him want to giggle.

He's drawn out of his, quite honestly, pre-teen girl thoughts when he feels Blaine's hand close around his, and his eyes draw up until they're looking at each other.

"Thank you." Blaine squeezes, but doesn't withdraw his hand afterwards.

"You're quite welcome." Kurt blushes a little bit at the completely sincerity in Blaine's gaze. "But I have to admit that the snacks were just used to cover up my ulterior motive of really wanting to see you." Kurt glances down, and when he looks at Blaine again, it's through his eyelashes.

Blaine's hold on his hand tightens just a bit.

"We haven't really seen much of each other lately, huh?" Blaine almost sounds ashamed for it, and it makes a part of Kurt sing just a little. Because this isn't just him. It's  _Blaine_ , too.

Who knew having feelings reciprocated could feel so fucking  _wonderful_.

"No, but it's okay. We're both busy." It sounds weak to his own ears, and Blaine easily sees right through it if the look on his face is any indication. Kurt becomes momentarily distracted as Blaine's thumb starts to stroke seemingly absentmindedly over the skin on the back of his hand, and then is drawn away when Blaine speaks again.

"I wouldn't mind if you came to visit me more often. Here, that is."

Kurt sucks in so much air, he's surprised he doesn't choke on it. Meeting at Blaine's house is one thing—even if it's hardly off campus, it still  _is_. Blaine agreeing to meeting on campus, even in the private confines of his office? It feels  _huge_.

His thumb is still brushing lightly on Kurt's hand, and somehow that seems to ground him.

"I think I can do that," Kurt replies, his voice quiet, and bites on his lip to hold back his grin. He'll get to see Blaine before he leaves for Ohio, after all.

"And your birthday is soon, right?"

Kurt's eyes fly up, and he looks at Blaine with what feels a lot like shock. Kurt vaguely remembers telling the other graders when his birthday was, months and months ago. A few of them have texted him about making plans, but Kurt had never thought that Blaine would remember. He'd wished, of course. He doesn't know who else he'd rather spend his 20th birthday with than Blaine.

He nods, dumbly, and Blaine looks contemplative for a moment.

"Maybe I could cook?" He suggests, eyebrows raised, glasses slipping from the motion. An urge that Kurt has been fighting for months now no longer has to be fought. He reaches across the desk and pushes the frames back up until they rest on the bridge of Blaine's nose.

He remembers Blaine's spaghetti, and then smiles. "Maybe we could cook together?"

Blaine catches his hand before he can retract it, and then makes Kurt's heart flutters as his lips brush the knuckles in a hardly-there kiss.

"I can agree to that."

*

Kurt does visit Blaine in his office more often—nearly every day, in fact. Since he doesn't have time before or after his classes, he uses the random breaks between lectures and study groups to see Blaine if he's available. He isn't always. Some of the classes he teaches happen at the same times that Kurt happens to be free, or he'll get all the way to the English building and Blaine will be with a student who actually  _needs_  help and isn't just there to stare moonily at him and kiss him.

Well, maybe stare moonily, but Kurt's pretty sure he's the only one who gets to kiss Blaine.

If he has the time, he'll wait, and sometimes he does—most times, he doesn't. Most times, he just doesn't have the extra time. But on the days that he  _can_  wait, it isn't all that bad. The English building is probably quieter than the library, and Kurt likes studying there. If times are really tight, but him and Blaine are still free, they'll just sit in his office—Blaine will work, and Kurt will study, and it feels so wonderfully domestic that Kurt can't find it in him to complain that they aren't physically connected in some way.

Or that Blaine is a very distracting presence and Kurt probably loses half of his study time just  _looking_  at Blaine. It's nice, knowing he's allowed to look. Knowing that Blaine probably actually  _likes_  it when Kurt is looking at him.

Kurt knows he likes it when he catches Blaine looking at him.

On this particular day, Blaine is in his office but with a student, so Kurt decides to wait. He has a stack of flashcards with him that's at least three inches thick, flipping through them almost mindlessly. He's starting to hit the point in his studying where he's pretty sure he knows the stuff, but isn't confident enough that he can stop studying it. He can't help feeling that if he stops studying something, he'll forget it before he has a chance to put his memory to the test.

It's always a little nerve-wrecking to stand outside Blaine's door when he's with someone. Kurt is always afraid that the door will open and whoever it is in there with Blaine will see the two of them and know immediately what's going on here.

Blaine doesn't have the same concerns—he teaches an array of classes, has many students, and, on top of that, Kurt used to work for him. There is nothing strange about a student waiting to talk to a professor during their office hours. No one but them knows that there's not going to be so much talking as there is kissing.

Surprisingly, Blaine doesn't have any qualms with kissing Kurt in his office. Kurt had always figured he would be uncomfortable with the idea, even though Kurt always found the idea of it kind of hot. Not that he would tell Blaine—he likes Blaine in spite of his age and his professional position. He just also happens to  _really_  like those things, a fact that he's still trying to come to terms with. The last thing he wants is for Blaine to think he's  _fetishizing_  him or something.

All they do is kiss, though. It's not even very intense kissing. Kurt doesn't know if Blaine is being cautious with him, or if it's just because kissing is  _as far_  as he wants to go in his office, but every little hint of tongue drives Kurt's impatience higher and higher. He thought, after waiting so long for Blaine, waiting for anything else would be a piece of cake.

It turns out he was very wrong.

He's staring at his flashcards, but all he's thinking about is Blaine's mouth, which isn't really conducive to studying in any way.

As if the universe is somehow in tune with Kurt's attention span, Blaine's door opens just then. At least Kurt has the pretense of studying, if nothing else. Even if him and Blaine are dating (him and Blaine are  _dating_ ), Kurt still wants Blaine to think he's a good and hardworking student, that he's smart. Not that he isn't any of those things—he's just been a little distracted lately, and so maybe those traits aren't shining as brightly as they otherwise would.

Kurt pushes himself off the wall, slipping his flashcards back into his bag, when Quinn walks out of Blaine's office.

 _Well, shit_.

Because it's one thing if it's just some random student. A random student wouldn't know that Kurt's not a student, and, even if they somehow did, they wouldn't know that Kurt doesn't work for Blaine anymore.

Quinn knows both of these things, however.

She looks surprised to see him, but not at all suspicious. She smiles.

"Kurt," she says, in lieu of an actual greeting. Kurt returns her smile and prays that his isn't as nervous as he's feeling.

He hasn't seen any of the other graders since he's quit and, thus, since he's started seeing Blaine. He's gotten a few texts from Tina about no longer being a grader, and had flubbed excuses about falling behind in his own coursework due to the responsibilities. Kurt can only assume his reasons have made their way through the rest of the group, which means Quinn would know.

Which means that there is absolutely no reason for Kurt to be there.

Kurt hates sweating, but he feels like he might break into one at any moment if he isn't hit with inspiration and fast.

"Hello, Quinn," he greets, letting his smile become a little more natural, and desperately needing the few seconds he just bought himself to think of  _something_.

Again, the universe must be listening, because Blaine appears behind Quinn and looks at Kurt like he wasn't expecting to see him there (even though he was).

"Oh good, Kurt. I'm glad you could make it," Blaine says, and Kurt tries to school his expression into something other than confusion. Thankfully, Quinn glances back at Blaine long enough that she doesn't see the falter. "We just have a few things to close out so that he's not considered under my employment anymore," he tells Quinn, and Kurt nearly whistles—Blaine is good at thinking on his feet.

Then again, he knew this would happen, so he's certainly had more time to prepare than Kurt's ten seconds.

"I really wish you'd reconsider, Kurt." Quinn turns back to look at him, and her face and voice are completely earnest. It makes Kurt feel a little bad, about leaving the graders, for  _lying_  about the reasons, but… He made his choice, and he isn't going back on it.

"I need to do what's best for me, Quinn." It comes out honest, because it is—Kurt is doing what's best for  _him_ , and right now… Well, that's Blaine. He has to stop himself from smiling stupidly, because Quinn is still right there, and Blaine is also  _right there_ , and as much as Kurt's made a fool of himself in front of the man in the past few months, he still wants to retain some shreds of dignity.

"And I admire that. But still." She gives Blaine a playful look. "I'm counting on you, Professor A, to make him reconsider?"

Kurt nearly laughs out loud at that.  _I don't think his arguments will be very convincing_. Especially since Blaine himself is a counterargument. But Blaine still smiles and promises to do his best, and then Quinn is waving goodbye and mentioning something offhand about doing something with Kurt for his birthday before she's gone. Kurt nearly melts into the wall from the wave of relief he feels.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asks as he steps back into his office, holding the door open for Kurt to follow. He doesn't sound particularly concerned—more amused than anything, actually.

"Fine. Just feeling a little  _ambushed_ ," Kurt accuses, turning on Blaine as he looks the door behind Kurt. Blaine raises his eyebrows.

"I texted you."

"No you didn't." Kurt's pretty sure he would have remembered that.

"Yes, I did." Blaine is grinning as he pulls out his phone, fiddling with it for a few moments before he holds it up in front of Kurt's face.

 **Blaine:**  
     Head's up.  
     Quinn's in my office.

Kurt stares at it before he finally fumbles for his own phone, and— _oh_ , there's the text.

"Distracted?" Blaine asks, and there's a playful glint in his eye that makes Kurt's stomach feel a little funny in a way that he thoroughly enjoys. Kurt wants to reply indignantly, tell Blaine that  _yes_ , he was studying, he must have been so absorbed in learning that he just didn't register his phone vibrating in his back pocket.

But then Kurt remembers what had really made him so distracted, and the way he blushes kind of ruins any plans to derail Blaine's teasing.

"Oh,  _shut up_ ," Kurt mumbles, glaring without heat, and then follows his previous train of thought to Blaine's mouth, kissing him even while he's still chuckling.

*

 **Tina:**  
     Happy birthday kurt!!!!!!!!  
     Any fun plans???

 **Kurt:**  
     Have a paper due tonight, so no. :(  
     Skyping with some friends and my family, but that's it.

 **Tina:**  
     Want to get lunch with me and q?  
     Maybe a few others?  
     It's your birthday you deserve some fun!

 **Kurt:**  
     I am convinced!  
     See you for lunch. :)

*

 **Blaine:  
**      Am I seeing a certain birthday boy for dinner tonight?

 **Kurt:  
**      Of course. :)

 **Blaine:**  
     Good. :)  
     And happy birthday, Kurt.  
     <3

*

"Thank you for having me over," Kurt says, almost shyly, as they walk from the dining room and into the living room. The space alone makes his stomach tumble into knots of anticipation—this is the room where Blaine and him shared their first kiss, after all, and now their first  _real_  date. Dinner is over and done with, the dishes done in a callback to Jamie's birthday party which now seems  _ages_  ago, and now… Well, Kurt's not sure what else Blaine has planned for the evening.

"I should be thanking you. Dinner was delicious," Blaine compliments, and then his hand is on Kurt's lower back, guiding him around to sit on the couch.

Kurt's words falter for just a second from the touch, but he swallows around the burst of butterflies, and responds with a preening, "My pleasure." It really was, especially seeing Blaine eating and enjoying his food. It just makes Kurt want to cook every recipe he knows, to bake every single sweet. If the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, Kurt is sure he can get there.

"So," Blain starts, turning his body towards where Kurt is sitting, and Kurt looks at him, eyebrows raised inquisitively, and maybe a little expectantly. Doesn't Blaine know that he's new at this? That he has no idea what he's doing? "The big 2-0. Feel any different?"

It's not the first time Kurt's been asked the question, and it's not the first time that he's felt the gut reaction of saying  _yes_. But he knows that the things he's feeling, the changes, have nothing to do with no longer being a teenager and everything to do with the person sitting in front of him.

"Not really. Do I… Seem any different?" Kurt asks, almost hesitantly, and goes still as Blaine reaches toward him, trailing fingers from his hairline and down his cheek and stopping Kurt's breath in his throat.

"Hmm…" Blaine hums, contemplatively, and his hand goes down Kurt's neck before curving over his shoulder. "I'm not sure…" Blaine is suddenly much closer than Kurt remembers him being, and it feels like every nerve ending in Kurt's body is on fire.

"Oh?" It comes out breathless and quiet, hardly more than a whisper, and Kurt is vaguely aware that he's moving—of his own volition, or because Blaine is guiding him, he's not quite sure—so that he's reclining backwards on the couch. Blaine's hand is on his face again, his palm curved around Kurt's cheek, and the last thing Kurt sees before his eyes flutter close is Blaine's grin.

Kissing horizontally is slightly different to kissing vertically. It's not that the motions are different enough to put Kurt at a loss (he likes kissing, and he's a fast learner, and if the amount that Blaine kisses him is any indication at his progress, he is doing  _very_  well), but there are so many other factors to take into account. The most distracting, of course, being the way Blaine's body is over his.

This isn't something they've done, not that they've really had the opportunity to do it before tonight. Blaine has been close, but feeling his weight like this is so different. He's not heavy—it doesn't feel like his entire body is resting against Kurt's, so he figures he must be propping himself up, but Kurt doesn't open his eyes to check. It's not important, either way.

His hand stays on Kurt's cheek, directing the kiss—it's slow, lips sliding against lips in a way that might be sweet but could also very well be teasing. Kurt's own hands are limp and useless at his sides (he still hasn't really figured out what his hands are supposed to  _doing_  when they kiss), and he feels strangely fidgety beneath Blaine as their kisses remain, well,  _chaste_. He's not exactly looking for ravaging, but he also doesn't want to be treated like he's fragile.

Blaine nips lightly at Kurt's bottom lip, and it's like some secret button Kurt didn't know he had has been pushed. His arms remember that they can move, and he winds them around Blaine's neck, pulling him closer as he turns his head. If Blaine isn't going to move this any faster, Kurt's going to have to do it.

And when he works up the courage to run his tongue along the seam of Blaine's lips, maybe he's hitting one of  _Blaine's_  button, because Blaine opens and regains control of the kiss.

The idea of tongues has never been appealing to Kurt, not until he'd caught the hint of Blaine's in one of their first few kisses. The idea had driven him crazy with curiosity, and  _god_ , is he thankful for that curiosity. A noise rumbles in his throat as he surges against Blaine, wanting to be closer to him as his tongue wraps and strokes along Kurt's—a master teaching a novice.

Kurt feels like he's hyperventilating, like suddenly he's forgotten how to breathe, and it must be telepathy or something that Blaine breaks away to let him catch his breath. Still, Kurt whines at the loss, because  _wow_ , tongues are  _amazing_ , and Kurt would really like to put his back in Blaine's mouth (or vice versa, he's not picky).

But Kurt doesn't get the chance—Blaine starts to kiss very lightly and teasingly along Kurt's jaw, and  _oh_ , that's new. That's new, and Kurt likes it. He leans his head back, strains his neck to lengthen it, and is reward with Blaine's mouth moving down, his lips joined by his tongue and then his teeth, and Kurt can't stop making noise. He's  _loud_ , and he never thought he would be.

His hands and arms reroute and rewind until he's gripping at the fabric stretched over Blaine's back, able to feel the way Blaine's body moves beneath his hands—their legs slot together, and then Blaine's mouth is gone from Kurt's skin. Kurt wishes Blaine would  _stop_  that. He keeps doing these things that Kurt loves and then just  _disappears_ , and it's not—

Blaine comes into his vision, and Kurt has just a moment to take him in (his hair looks a little messy, although Kurt doesn't remember touching it, and his eyes are dark in a way that pulls low, low,  _low_  in Kurt) before they're kissing again.

Best. Birthday. Ever.

This time, Kurt knows more what he's doing, drawing Blaine's tongue into his own mouth and, at the same time, drawing delicious sounds out of him, sounds that race like bolts of electricity through Kurt's body, lower and lower and…

Oh god, he's  _hard_. He's hard, and they're pressed so close together, there's no way that Blaine doesn't notice.

But Blaine doesn't pull back, just chases after Kurt's tongue with his own and rocks his hips down.

Kurt's entire body goes still, because Blaine is hard, too,  _oh god oh god oh god_.

With less reluctance than he'd think he'd have, Kurt starts to pull away, presses a hand against Blaine's chest with enough pressure that Blaine is opening his eyes and staring down at him.

"I…" Kurt's breath is completely gone, and it takes him longer than it usually would to finally say, "I think we should, um, we should stop."

Blaine looks confused, like he doesn't understand what Kurt is saying, and then he blinks slowly, as if clearing the haze (oh god, a  _lust haze_ , Kurt is in a  _romance novel_ ) and remembering where he is, who he's with, what they're doing.

"Oh." Blaine's eyes widen, and Kurt feels hot with embarrassment and arousal as Blaine rolls off of him. The couch isn't really big enough for both of them to lay side by side, so they're still touching in plenty of places, and Kurt tries to imperceptibly scoot his body away to give them at least an inch of space. Kurt likes having intimate moments with Blaine, but feeling Blaine's erection soften against his thigh is just… Too much, way,  _way_  too much right now.

It's quiet, and Kurt feels strangely mortified, like maybe he can put his hands over his face and they can move past this weirdness that's starting to settle. Kurt wonders if he should apologize. Maybe he shouldn't have stopped them.

"Sorry," Blaine says instead, and his voice is… Different. It's been a little huskier after their kissing sessions before, but this is… God, it makes Kurt want to grab him and keep going despite his own reservations. "I got a little carried away."

Kurt turns his head to look at him, still feeling hot enough that his clothes are a little stifling but his breathing and heartbeat are returning to normal.

Blaine's fingers are on his face again, and they just seem to make the fire under his skin hotter as they brush over it.

"You're so beautiful, sometimes I forget myself," Blaine murmurs, and Kurt's mouth parts in surprise.

"You think I'm beautiful?" Kurt asks, bashfully, and Blaine looks a little gobsmacked by the question.

"I—yes. Kurt, you are very… Distracting." Blaine laughs a little bit, and it makes Kurt smile. Just like that, the blanket of weird that Kurt had felt settling around them is gone.

"Have you always found me… Distracting?" Kurt licks his lips, feeling playful, and Blaine affectionately rolls his eyes.

"You're digging," Blaine points out, and Kurt blinks at him innocently.

"So?" It's not like Blaine doesn't know that Kurt's found him attractive basically since day one—it's only fair, right? But Blaine doesn't cave, just chuckles and shakes his head before shuffling around as if getting ready to stand up. Kurt lets out a small sigh, but maneuvers until he's not really lying down, but not really sitting, either.

"I'm going to get something to drink. Do you want anything?"

"A water would be great, but I can—"

"One water, coming right up," Blaine replies before Kurt can start getting up, and then dips in to kiss Kurt right between his eyebrows before he leaves.

Kurt is left alone, basically lounging on the couch, and he leans back into it and closes his eyes as he lets himself breathe and take the few moments to himself to return to normal. Although he could very well get used to the way Blaine makes him feel becoming his new normal.

There's a small ache in him, a bit of yearning that shouldn't be there when Blaine's only in the next room, but it's another feeling that Kurt has kind of become accustomed to. When he's not around Blaine, he  _wants_  to be. When he's not around Blaine, he's thinking of him, and he misses him. It's like a sharp slap from reality, bursting Kurt's happy Blaine-bubble, because the year is almost over. Finals are lingering close enough that even thinking about it makes Kurt feel stressed out, and after that…

He sighs.

"What's wrong?" Blaine's voice is soft and close as he sits down beside Kurt again, and Kurt just frowns and shakes his head. There's the sound of Blaine setting cups down, and then there's a touch to Kurt's chin, turning his head until they're eye-to-eye. Blaine doesn't repeat his question, just gives a significant raise of his eyebrows, and it would make Kurt laugh if there wasn't a sudden lump in his throat.

"It just… Sucks, I guess." Kurt feels like a teenager saying it like that, but it doesn't make it any less true. "I don't want to not see you for  _three months_. I should have taken summer school," he grumbles. Even though he knows exactly why he didn't take summer school, and that outside of his smitten-puppy mindset, he really does want to see his dad and his family. But it's hard to think outside of it so soon,  _especially_  when Blaine is right there and Kurt is reminded of exactly what he'll be going without for the whole summer.

"Kurt," Blaine says in that way that's starting to feel familiar. He never seems to need a lot of words to let Kurt know what he's thinking—all he has to do is say Kurt's name, and somehow it's enough.

"What if you—" Kurt starts, and then stops himself, nearly covering his mouth with his hands to keep the words from tumbling out. But Blaine just raises his eyebrows and looks at him, expectantly.

"What if I what?"

Kurt shakes his head.

"Kurt, what if I  _what?_ " Blaine pushes.

"…what if you change your mind while I'm gone?" Kurt's voice comes out so small and meek. He not only feels like a child, but he sounds like one, as well. Blaine's face flickers through seemingly a hundred different expressions in the span of a few seconds, but he settles on affection. Kurt will take it, rather than trying to decipher what the other ninety-nine may have been.

Blaine reaches for him, and Kurt goes, his insecurities soothed slightly as Blaine wraps his arms around him and pulls them closer. Blaine is  _affectionate_ , more than Kurt thought he would be, but Kurt finds he doesn't mind. Every touch, small or large, innocent or purposeful, is like reassurance that Blaine is in this, too. Blaine wants this, too.

Blaine wants  _him_ , too.

"This isn't ending," Blaine whispers into his hair, his breath warm against Kurt's scalp. They're basically cuddling on the couch and it's certainly the most innocent form of contact they've had all night, but that doesn't stop it from feeling incredibly intimate.

Despite the fact that Blaine is shorter than him, Kurt likes that when they're lying down like this he can tuck his head beneath Blaine's chin. It probably reminds Blaine of how young he is, but, for once, Kurt doesn't feel like fighting it. He can't see himself  _ever_  telling Blaine this, but he kind of likes the way Blaine is older than him in moments like this… It makes Kurt feel cared for, somehow.

"It feels like it is," Kurt mutters, sounding petulant without meaning to.

"What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from," Blaine responds softly, after a few moments of silence, and Kurt pulls back to give him a strange look.

"Did you just quote Dickens at me?" He asks, his voice completely not amused despite the fact that he feels a little touched. Blaine laughs and shakes his head just a bit.

"No. Eliot, this time." But apparently Kurt said something right, because Blaine presses a kiss to Kurt's temple.

"O-oh." Kurt feels a little off-guard, the same way he did when Blaine kissed the back of his hand. "Well, it's lovely, but it doesn't exactly make me feel better."

Blaine laughs again.

"It feels like the end, Kurt, because it is."

Kurt feels like he's just jumped in a pool of ice, and Blaine must feel the way his entire body tenses, because he rushes to continue.

"Not the end of  _us_ , but an end to what we had before, and an end to the year. But those ends are the beginnings of other things. Just because we won't see each other for awhile—"

"Three  _months_ ," Kurt reminds him, his voice bordering on a whine.

"Three months. But we'll be fine. Our beginning is just going to last a little longer, and that's not a bad thing."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're too good with words?" Kurt gives him a playful glare. He isn't even sure if what Blaine is saying is even all that great, but… It  _sounds_  nice. That could probably end up being very dangerous.

"Yes." Blaine tips Kurt's chin up and is smiling when they kiss—Kurt wonders if it will be like earlier, but Blaine keeps the kiss light. Even so, it still makes Kurt feel a little dizzy. "We'll figure it out, okay?"

"Okay," Kurt whispers, and then smiles softly. It's hard not to believe Blaine, to  _trust_  him, when he sounds so sure. If Blaine believes in them… Well, that says enough to make Kurt believe in them, too.

They can do this.


	16. Starting to Spark

"What do I tell my family?" Kurt blurts into his phone as soon as the call's picked up. "What do I tell my  _friends?_ "

There's silence on the other end of the line as Kurt's nerves start to twist and fray.

"…Kurt?" Blaine finally mumbles in reply, and Kurt shifts on his feet.

"Yes," he answers impatiently.

"Kurt, it's… It's 5:30 in the morning."

Kurt immediately feels the urge to refute that  _no, it's not_ , but he can hear the thick sound of sleep in Blaine's voice, and it's enough to remind Blaine that just because it's after eight in Ohio doesn't mean it's the same exact time in California. It's only his second day home, and while he should probably be suffering from at least some level of jet lag, he's fairly good at adjusting his own biological clock.

(Besides, if he lets himself sleep in, he'll just fall into the habit, and he does not want to spend his entire summer  _sleeping_ ).

"Oh god," Kurt groans, plopping down on his bed. "Blaine, I'm  _so_  sorry, I—time difference, I forgot." When Kurt had been itemizing all the downsides to forcing long distance onto a brand new relationship, time zones had not been something he'd taken into account. How in the world did he forget that?

"It's okay…" Blaine mumbles, following it up with a yawn. Kurt knows it's not okay, especially not this week—grades are due Friday, and Kurt knows for a fact that Blaine has been up late every night grading essays. Just because Kurt is done with his finals doesn't mean that Blaine is done with  _his_. "Although, for the record, I'm not usually up at… What time is it there?"

"8:30," Kurt responds, and can't help smiling a bit.

"Yeah, I'm not usually up that early if I can help it."

"You are surprisingly eloquent for being woken up so early." Kurt feels bad for waking Blaine up, but at the same time… It's nice to hear his voice. Kurt saw him two days ago, and they've texted since then, but hearing his voice again—Kurt didn't realize how much he missed it already. He throws a miserable look at the calendar hanging on his wall, and for the first time in his life, wills summer to be over  _sooner_.

"I'm an English professor," Blaine murmurs as way of explanation, and Kurt just closes his eyes and reclines back on his bed. Him and Blaine haven't shared a bed yet (way,  _way_  too soon, and the idea itself makes Kurt feel a little panicky), but in that moment, Kurt pretends anyways. He bets Blaine looks adorable when he's all drowsy. He wonders what Blaine sleeps in, and which side of the bed he prefers, and how many pillows he likes to use. Does he snore? Kurt  _really_  hopes he doesn't snore.

"Why did you call?" Blaine's voice is muffled by his own exhaustion, but the question draws Kurt away from his thoughts, and reminds him of why the first thing he did when he woke up was grab for his phone and hit Blaine's contact info.

"…I'm not good at lying to my dad," Kurt says, sitting up. "And I don't think just telling him that there's someone I'm interested in at school is going to cut it with him. Maybe everyone else, but… My dad is freakily good at reading me sometimes." Sometimes. Kurt used to be good at avoiding topics, because he really doesn't like lying to his dad, and it was easy to keep Burt from asking questions when Kurt didn't bring up the subject areas.

It's easy to cover bruises with clothing, to walk like it doesn't hurt, to hide something he's ashamed about.

But to hide something that's kept him smiling for the last few weeks? To keep himself from clinging to his phone constantly, from planning things like phone and Skype dates? Kurt just doesn't think he can keep a relationship absolutely secret from his dad—not if he wants said relationship to survive the summer.

"I-I'm not asking to tell him everything," Kurt babbles when Blaine remains silent. "Just… Something."

"What did you have in mind?" Blaine sounds more awake, and Kurt wonders if he freaked him out. This thing between them is complicated, and Blaine has put a lot of faith in Kurt to keep things within the guidelines he'd set up. Kurt has no intention of fucking that up, knowing how hard he worked to get to this point and exactly what's at stake if he let's anything slip.

If he's going to survive an entire summer with his family, and his friends, and be expected not to say anything that breaks the rules that they have in place—well, he needs to have something to tell them. If he doesn't, he's pretty sure he's going to go  _insane_.

"I thought it would be easiest if I told them I…" Kurt pauses, gripping his phone tight, and debating for a second if maybe he should have done this through a text message—it definitely would have been easier, but possibly cause him a lot more anxiety. "If I told them I had a boyfriend, and then maybe we could give you a nickname, like your middle name or—or even your real name, I don't  _have_  to tell them your last name, and it's not like any of them go to the school or ever will." Kurt wonders if he keeps babbling if Blaine will just gloss over the first suggestion and maybe agree to it without actively realizing he's agreeing to it.

Okay, so that's kind of tricking him into it, but… Kurt's never  _done_  this before.

"Kurt Hummel," Blaine starts, and Kurt closes his eyes—he wishes he was with Blaine, as embarrassing as it would be. But at least then he could see Blaine's face, could read his body language, and therefore mentally prepare himself for whatever Blaine could possibly say next. "Did you just kind of ask me to be your boyfriend?"

"Um…" Kurt stares down at his comforter, tracing his fingers along the plaid lines as if that somehow buys him more time. "Technically? No. I said that it would be  _easier_  to tell my family that I had a boyfriend…"

"Like a story?" Blaine (incorrectly) surmises. There's something in his voice that makes Kurt feel like he's being teased, and he huffs. "So we won't actually be boyfriends?"

" _No_ ," Kurt rushes to say. That is not how he wanted this conversation to go  _at all_.

"No, you don't want me to be your boyfriend?"

"Yes, I want you to be my boyfriend!" Kurt's voice is annoyed and slightly panicky, and he realizes he's talking a lot louder than he should. The last thing he needs right now is his dad poking his head in here to see what's going on.

"I would love to be your boyfriend, Kurt."

And…  _Oh_. Blaine tricked him.

"…you tricked me," Kurt accuses, but it probably doesn't sound very angry, considering there's a bit of a giggle in his voice that undoes any of that.

"You tried to trick me first," Blaine counters, and Kurt pouts despite the fact that Blaine can't see him—it's true, after all. It's only fair that Blaine got back at him.

"…do you mean it?" Kurt asks, hesitantly after a second, and the silence that stretches after the question makes him think that maybe Blaine was just joking.

"Yes," Blaine finally says, and it's another one of those simple syllables that makes Kurt's entire  _life_  seem to buzz with this sort of happiness he didn't even know existed. But Blaine isn't there, and Kurt knows he can smile as big as he wants without worrying about how young he seems. "Kurt, will you be my boyfriend?"

Kurt grabs his pillow and hugs it tight to his chest, his cheeks aching with the force of his grin.

"Absolutely."

Kurt has a  _boyfriend_ , and not just any boyfriend—Blaine. He hides his face in his pillow to keep from screaming.

*

 **Blaine:**  
    We didn't come up with a story.

 **Kurt:**  
    You fell asleep.

 **Blaine:**  
    I was tired!

 **Kurt:**  
    I know. I'm not mad.  
    I'm sorry for waking you up. :(

 **Blaine:**  
    Don't feel bad. It's okay.

 **Kurt:**  
    I'll be more mindful of the time difference in the future.

 **Blaine:**  
    Seriously, Kurt. It's okay.

 **Kurt:**  
    If you say so.

 **Blaine:**  
    I do.  
    But I still have the feeling you don't believe me.  
    So. Story?

 **Kurt:**  
    Right.  
    I was just thinking we'd go with something close to the truth.  
    We met in class, started having coffee together, etc.  
    Does that sound okay?

 **Blaine:**  
    Yes, although I'm a little surprised.

 **Kurt:**  
    ?  
    About what?

 **Blaine:**  
    When you said story, I expected something a little more elaborate.

 **Kurt:**  
    I told you, I don't like lying to my dad.  
    The closer I stay to the truth, the better.  
    Um. About your name…  
    Any nicknames?

 **Blaine:**  
    Not really.  
    My middle name is Devon, though.

 **Kurt:**  
    Devon…  
    I like Blaine better.  
    Would that be okay?

 **Blaine:**  
    Blaine isn't exactly a common name…

 **Kurt:**  
    And neither is the fact that I'm dating a professor.  
    I don't think my family is going to immediately connect "Blaine" to "Mr. Anderson."  
    In fact, they don't even know your first name.

 **Blaine:**  
    I don't know, Kurt…

 **Kurt:**  
    It's not like I'm telling people at school. This is my family.  
    The only things they'll know about you are the things I tell them.

 **Blaine:**  
    You're really insistent, aren't you?

 **Kurt:**  
    I don't like lying.

 **Blaine:**  
    And it's very admirable.  
    Fine.  
    It's hard to say no to you.

 **Kurt:**  
    …it is?

 **Blaine:**  
    Digging.  
    I have finals to grade.  
    Talk to you later.

 **Kurt:**  
    Okay.  
    <3

 **Blaine:**  
    :)  
    <3

*

As much as Kurt had been complaining about going home, it's nice to be with his family again. It's nice to help Carole make dinner (or, well, have Carole help him—Kurt had missed cooking, and makes a note to take advantage of the fact that Blaine has a full, hardly-ever-used kitchen at his disposal when he goes back to California), to be able to keep a close eye on his father. It's even nice to nag Finn until he agrees to help with dishes.

Kurt wishes there was some kind of balance—that he could somehow have his family and Blaine at the same time. But that's simply not possible. Even if it was, it would probably cause more problems than it solved.

"Did you have surgery while you were in California or something?” His dad asks conversationally over dinner, and Kurt turns to him with a look of confusion.

"What?" He scrunches his eyebrows together, and Burt just sends him an amused look.

"Your phone has been attached to your hand since you got home," Burt points out, cutting into the chicken they're having for dinner. He pops a piece in his mouth, and Kurt glances down at his phone, feeling embarrassed. If his  _dad_  is calling him out on it, then it must be pretty bad. Kurt… Hadn't really noticed, actually. It's hard to think about how much he's using his phone when he remembers why he's using it.

He stops himself before he can smile down at the black screen too stupidly.

"Must be someone pretty important for you to be talking to them all the time," Burt surmises, and Kurt thinks that maybe his dad is a little too perceptive sometimes.

Then again, this is the opportunity that Kurt has been waiting for. Deciding (with Blaine) to tell his family that he has a boyfriend back in California is  _a lot_  easier than actually telling them. Kurt's, well, he's never  _had_  a boyfriend before, and so he's never had to go through this. Still, sitting down next to his dad while he's watching TV doesn't exactly seem like the best time to say, "Oh, by the way, I'm seeing someone."

If this isn't the opportune moment, Kurt isn't sure what is.

(Except, perhaps, his dad straight out asking him if he's seeing someone, but Kurt can't really see that happening in the next, oh, ten or so years.)

"Um, actually…" Kurt starts, and he feels so nervous. What is his dad going to say? Going to ask? Going to expect? Kurt is going to tell the truth as much as he can, but his hands are tied in some circumstances.

His family's attention is suddenly on him—at least, Burt and Carole's is. Finn seems too busy eating to realize that Kurt is clearly about to say something important, that is until Carole gives him a pointed squeeze on the shoulder.

Oh god, he's going to throw up. He's  _actually_  going to throw up. This shouldn't be so hard to say, right?

All Kurt wishes in that moment is that Blaine was there, holding his hand and urging him forward. Sure, in reality it would probably make the situation about a thousand times worse, but… The moral support would be nice.

As if the universe is listening, or like maybe Blaine has some sort of super power that lets him know when Kurt needs him, his phone vibrates in his lap.

 **Blaine:**  
    That sounds good.  
    I'm having pizza for dinner.  
    Again.

It's far from moral support, but it's enough to make Kurt smile, and to push past the nerves in his gut.

"It's… My boyfriend," Kurt finally says. Finn, who is the only one with food in his mouth, immediately spits it back onto his plate. Kurt wrinkles his nose—gross.

"Oh sweetheart," Carole coos, the first one to speak as she reaches across the table and puts her hand over Kurt's. "That's so wonderful."

Carole's words soothe the worms in Kurt's stomach to a degree, and it makes him smile, because… Well, it really  _is_  wonderful.

"Isn't it wonderful, honey?" Carole asks Burt, the tone of her voice a little sharper, as if she's urging him to agree. Burt stares down at his plate, and then looks at Kurt and gives a small smile.

"It was only a matter of time, huh?" He shakes his head. "I knew sending you off to California meant that all this would start." Burt reaches over, and gives Kurt a few hearty pats to the shoulder. "I'm happy for you, buddy."

And Kurt smiles, big and full and relieved. He can be so terrified of his dad, and in the end, it never makes any sense.

"Thanks, Dad," Kurt whispers, and Burt just nods at him.

"How long have you two been seeing each other?" Carole asks, and just like that, dinner resumes, only now the topic of conversation is Kurt's love life and not the difficult customer his dad had to deal with in the shop that day.

"Only a few weeks," Kurt supplies. These questions are easy. He can answer the basic ones almost entirely truthfully.

"And where does he live?"

"Um, California…"

Carole tsks and frowns.

"That must be hard.” She reaches over and gives Kurt’s arm a squeeze. “To be just starting out and then to be separated for the whole summer.”

It  _is_  hard, and it’s only been a few days. Kurt can’t even begin to imagine how hard it might become, or what obstacles they might face. Oh god,  _obstacles_. Kurt’s never  _been_  in a relationship before. How is he supposed to prepare if he has no idea what to expect in the first place? Kurt stares down at his dinner plate with wide eyes, because his imagination is nothing short of inventive.

What if Blaine finds someone else while he’s gone? Someone who isn’t a student at the college and therefore instantly a hundred times easier to enter into a relationship with? Someone who is older, and more experienced, and more attractive? Oh god, why did Kurt  _ever_  leave California?!

“What’s his name?”

Blaine is going to break up with him. They  _just_  became boyfriends and Blaine is absolutely going to break up with him. Will he wait until Kurt comes back for the school year to do it in person? Will he call? What if he does it through a text message? How is Kurt supposed to plead his case through a  _text message?_

“Kurt?”

Even if he gets the opportunity to change Blaine’s mind, what is he going to say? Kurt’s not even sure how he managed it the first time. It had all felt like useless babbling at the time and  _somehow_  it had worked. What if Blaine comes out with a hundred new arguments against them and Kurt can’t think of a way to counter them?

“ _Kurt_.”

“What?” Kurt’s head jerks up, and his dad is staring at him with a vaguely amused, vaguely exasperated expression.

“You okay over there?” Burt smiles crookedly, and Kurt realizes he was having a nervous breakdown right there at the dinner table. Kurt blinks a few times and then forces a smile. He’ll save the nervous breakdown for later.

“I’m fine.” He knows he sounds far from convincing, but his dad must see something in his face, because he drops whatever fatherly concern he has at that moment and takes a bite of pasta. Kurt almost sighs in relief—as freeing as it would be to spill to his dad, and to get the affirmation he so badly needs about his and Blaine’s relationship, opening that door would make it very hard to close again. The last thing Kurt needs right now is to accidentally slip up to his  _dad_  about dating one of his previous professors.

“So what’s his name?” Burt asks, and Kurt shouldn’t feel nervous, but he does. Him and Blaine have talked about this, Blaine has given his okay, and yet… Suddenly Kurt feels like he’s giving too much away. It’s a strange feeling, actually. Kurt’s felt like he’s been wearing a gag all this time, dating Blaine and feeling so wonderful and just wanting to talk. Now that he finally has the freedom and permission to do so, if only by a little, it’s like he’s forgotten how.

“Blaine,” he finally responds, toying with his fork as his eyes dip down past his plate to where his phone is resting in his lap.

 **Blaine:**  
    Have you ever watched a movie with someone on the other side of the country before?  
    It’s fun! :)  
    Please.  
    I need to not grade for a few hours.

Kurt smiles.

“His name is Blaine.”

*

“It went… Surprisingly well,” Kurt mumbles into his phone, eyebrows furrowed. He’s trying to focus on the movie playing on his laptop, but he’s never been good at concentrating on something while he’s trying to tell a story. “I’m actually kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“What do you mean?” Blaine asks, and he sounds half distracted. Probably because of the movie, which makes sense since he’s the one who picked it out.

“I mean— _jesus christ_ , what was  _that?_ ” Kurt asks, completely derailed by the ridiculously creepy  _thing_  he just saw.

“That’s what the zombies turn into. Aren’t you paying attention?” Blaine asks, and he doesn’t sound upset, but Kurt can still imagine the frown on his face and  _god_ , is that even normal? Should Kurt even be able to see that pout so clearly in his mind already?

“Of course,” Kurt instantly rebuffs. “Sort of.” Blaine makes a disbelieving noise on the other end of the phone, and Kurt huffs. “ _Fine_ , not really, but I’m trying to tell you a story and I’m not really a  _fan_  of zombies.” Or anything scary, for that matter, that hasn’t been grotesquely romanticized and played down. Twilight? Can do. Dracula? …not so much.

“You could have said something when I suggested it, you know.”

“You said it was a  _love story_.”

“It is!”

“I watched the main character  _eat someone!_ ”

“…and it’s also a zombie story,” Blaine amends, and Kurt laughs, closing his eyes and dropping his forehead into his hand, and his heart feels flooded with warmth for a moment, blocking out all the doubt and worry that’s plagued him since he left California. The background noise on Blaine’s side of the call stops, and Kurt blinks his eyes open again.

“There, movie paused. Now I can pay attention to your story with my full attention.”

Kurt fumbles to pause his own playback, and his voice is thick when he says, “Thanks.” It’s such a little, minuscule sort of thing, but… Kurt’s spent a lot of his life  _not_  being listened to. For Blaine to reassure Kurt that he wants to hear what Kurt has to say is just on the overwhelming side. Then again, it’s all those little things that add up, right?

“I…” Kurt wets his lips and then gives a little laugh. “I forgot what I was saying.” Blaine tends to throw his thoughts completely off course.

“You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop,” Blaine elaborates, and Kurt smiles so big he feels the urge to hide it away… But he’s in the privacy of his bedroom, and there’s no one around to see it or question it.

“Right.” And then, as Kurt’s worries flood back, the smile falls from his face. “I…” Kurt isn’t quite sure what to say. One part of him is urging that he tell Blaine the truth, but another part is telling him to  _shut it_. Maybe his insecurities are immature. Maybe if Blaine hears them, it will drive their relationship to an even worse place than it possibly already is.

 _I’ll keep it vague. I won’t lie, I just… Won’t say everything_.

“I feel like everything has been so good up until now, that everything has been working out and…”  _Going his way_ , he stops himself from saying. “I guess I’m just expecting the bad to rear its ugly head any day now.”

“The fact that we have to keep this thing between us a secret isn’t bad?” Blaine asks, his voice completely logical, like they’re debating the theme of a book rather than talking as… As boyfriends.

“No!” Kurt rushes to say. “I-I mean, I don’t mind it.”

“But it’s not ideal.” It’s not a question, and Kurt’s agreement is resting on his tongue before he swallows it back down and stays silence. But apparently, that’s answer enough for Blaine.

“You know, if you expect the bad to come, it will, but not as any act of karmic balance. It comes because by thinking that it will; you make it yourself.” Blaine’s voice is so steady and soothing and  _reasonable_ , that all the yips inside of Kurt quiet at the sound of it.

“How did you get so smart?” Kurt asks, a smile on his face again.

“I would think the near decade worth of schooling that I did helped some,” Blaine jokes back. “But I’m serious, Kurt.” His voice grows softer. “Don’t wait for the bad, okay? Wait for, and expect, the good. The world is a better place when you’re happy.”

Kurt’s words catch in his throat, heart thudding against his chest like it might burst with how big and heavy it suddenly feels.  _I am so in love with you_ , Kurt thinks, closing his eyes, and trying to breath around the emotions that feel like they’ve blocked up all his airways and veins.

“You make me happy, so… I guess the world will just be a better place, then.”

Blaine gives a little laugh, almost like he’s embarrassed, and then clears his throat.

“So, the movie?”

Kurt groans before he can stop himself.

“Or not.” Blaine’s laugh this time is filled with amusement.

“I’m sure it’s a great movie, Blaine. I just… Do not think I have the will to make myself watch a zombie movie.”

“Would you watch it if I held your hand the whole time?”

Kurt thinks he could probably conquer the world if Blaine held his hand the whole time, but instead he says, “It’s a possibility,” with the inability to keep his voice from being the slightest bit breathless.

“Then we’ll have to watch it when you get back.”

 _When he gets back_. Kurt is practically counting down the days.

“It’s a date.”

*

 **Kurt:**  
    Is it August yet?

 **Blaine:**  
    Bored of summer already?

 **Kurt:**  
    I’m in Ohio, Blaine.  
    There is nothing to do in Ohio.

 **Blaine:**  
    I’m sure there’s something.  
    You could always catch up on your reading?  
    That’s what I like to do with my summer vacations. :)  
    When I’m not teaching, of course.

 **Kurt:**  
    I wish I could travel.  
    That’s what people are supposed to do on summer vacation.  
    I’m supposed to go to Hawaii, or the Bahamas, or the South of France.

 **Blaine:**  
    What kind of people do you know that they do that?

 **Kurt:**  
    I don’t know.  
    People.  
    My future self.

 **Blaine:**  
    All of those places involve near-constant sun exposure.

 **Kurt:**  
    So does going to school in Southern California, but I still manage.  
    Sun screen is a wonderful thing.

 **Blaine:**  
    I’m sorry you can’t satiate your wanderlust.

 **Kurt:**  
    Nice showing off your vocabulary.  
    But it’s okay.  
    One day.

 **Blaine:**  
    I’m sure of it.  
    In the meantime, you can catch up on your reading.

 **Kurt:**  
    Is this your way of telling me that I don’t read enough?

 **Blaine:**  
    This is me being a teacher and encouraging outside reading.

 **Kurt:**  
    I don’t even know what to read.

 **Blaine:**  
    Is that an invitation to make a list?

 **Kurt:**  
    No.

 **Blaine:**  
    I’m pretty sure it was.

 **Kurt:**  
    It absolutely was not.

 **Blaine:**  
    Lucky for you, I already made one.  
    I’ll email it to you.  
    :)

 **Kurt:**  
    You’re insufferable.

 **Blaine:**  
    Who’s showing off their vocab now?

 **Kurt:**  
    Well, you see, my boyfriend is an English professor, and I’m trying to impress him.

 **Blaine:**  
    I’m sure he is flattered by the effort.  
    And will be very impressed with all the words you learn by completing the reading list he’s compiled for you.

 **Kurt:**  
    Insufferable.

*

“ _You got a boyfriend?!_ ” Rachel screeches, shooting up to her knees and staring at Kurt like she’s never seen him before. “And you waited this long to  _tell us?!_ ” She smacks Kurt once with a pillow, and he holds up his arms to block it, unable to keep himself from laughing.

“I’m sorry!” He insists, but Rachel just keeps whacking him, and there’s a point where Kurt’s humor dries up into annoyance. “Rachel. Rachel.  _Rachel_.” He grabs the pillow and looks at her sternly. “I said I was sorry.”

“You’d better be,” Mercedes scolds. “We’re your best girls. You should have called us the second it happened.”

“I know, I know, but  _I_  didn’t even know we were boyfriends until a week ago—“

“A  _week?_  You waited a  _week_  to tell us?”

“Down, girl,” Mercedes tells her, but she doesn’t look extremely pleased with the information, either. “Let the boy speak.” Kurt shoots her a grateful smile, but she just gives him an expectant look, waiting for him to explain the delay.

“I just… This is all really new to me. I was kind of adjusting to the idea myself.” To be honest, Kurt isn’t sure why he waited so long to tell them about Blaine… The whole situation has just felt like this huge  _secret_  that he has to protect, and letting his dad in on even the smallest piece of it had torn Kurt’s nerves to shreds. And that’s his  _dad_ , who, while interested in his sons life and wanting information, doesn’t tend to  _pry_.

But Rachel and Mercedes? They won’t be happy with just a name. They’ll ask questions—lots of questions, questions that dig and dig and dig, and Kurt… Well. Kurt is a  _horrible_  liar.

“Oh, boo,” Mercedes coos, grabbing him around the shoulders and pulling him closer, while Rachel herself looks a little dejected at having reacted so negatively at first. “We’re both so happy for you, you know that, right? We just expected that you’d be so happy, you’d be bursting at the seams to tell everyone about it.”

 _I was_ , Kurt thinks. He would have called them the second he was alone after it all happened, he’s sure, he just… Wasn’t sure if he was allowed to. He wasn’t sure what he was allowed to say.

“Exactly,” Rachel agrees, nodding.

“I guess I just didn’t want to jinx it.” Which is also true, although Kurt was more afraid that he would ruin absolutely everything by opening his mouth to relay even one piece of information. His excitement tends to run away with him, and he’s liable to tell way too much—way more than he  _should_.

“I understand that  _completely_ ,” Rachel says, speaking as if she is much older and wiser than him as she places a hand on his knee. “It’s always better to let good news sink in before you share it.”

“Rachel, when you got a part in the chorus of that school play of yours, you called us both immediately,” Mercedes replies, pointedly, and Rachel lifts her chin.

“Well that’s a part in a production, Mercedes, and I have no reason to be afraid if jinxing  _that_. I was obviously chosen for my superior skills, and the fact that I audition so well.”

Mercedes and Kurt share a look, and then laugh, and she frowns at both of them.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Mercedes starts once they’ve both settled down, “But I’m surprised. I didn’t know you were crushing on anyone.”

Kurt opens his mouth to respond, but Rachel’s face suddenly takes on a look of absolute horror as she points at him.

“This boyfriend of yours isn’t that boy from Spring Break, is it? The one you called me in tears over because he said that you had no chance with him?” She seems aghast at the very idea of it, and Kurt vaguely remembers eating his feelings out of a pint and Ben and Jerry’s and nearly spilling everything to Rachel after that horrible night when he confessed to Blaine.

“Well—“

“Kurt!” Rachel cuts him off. “You deserve better than that!”

“Let me explain!”

“That boy  _broke your heart_ —“

“He did not—“

“—and threw it on the ground and  _spit_  on it—“

“Ladies!” Mercedes calls, putting a hand on both of their chests. They don’t quiet immediately, but after a loud, “Hey!” they both finally stop squabbling. Mercedes looks at Kurt, and he takes a deep breath to settle himself.

“He did turn me down initially, but we were…” Kurt tries to think of something,  _anything_ , that equates to the relationship Kurt and Blaine had had as employee and employer, “We worked together, and so there was no way we could avoid seeing one another, so we tried to maintain a professional relationship… But we ended up spending so much time together that we just… Grew closer as a result.” Kurt glances down. “And then he kind of… Alluded to maybe feeling something more for me, so I decided to, um… Pursue him.”

“Damn, boy,” Mercedes replies, low and impressed. Rachel, however, still looks skeptical.

“I still don’t like how he treated you. He better be making up for that.”

To Kurt, Blaine even giving him the time of day is repentance enough for what happened back in March. But he knows the whole story, he knows that Blaine was trying to protect his career, and he understands what Blaine did and forgave him for it. There’s no way to tell the girls any of it, though, without revealing what he absolutely can’t.

“He is…” Kurt tells them, smiling softly and tracing his finger on the bed, and Rachel squeals.

“You are so in love!” She clasps her hands together.

“You so deserve it,” Mercedes tells him in a whisper, kissing his cheek, and Kurt’s smile widens as he soaks up his friends’s happiness for him.

“Now.” Rachel sits up straighter. “Since you neglected your duties as best friend before, you have to tell us  _everything_  now.”

Mercedes nods in agreement.

“What’s his name?”

“Blaine—“

“What does he look like?”

“Do you have any pictures?”

“I, no, I don’t—“

“We can just look him up on Facebook, then. I appreciate that you told both of us  _first_  before becoming Facebook official. I wouldn’t have forgiven you if  _that’s_  how I’d found out.”

“He, uh, he doesn’t have a Facebook.”

Mercedes and Rachel, both crowded around her laptop, stare at him as if he’s speaking another language.

“He doesn’t have a Facebook?”

“Who doesn’t have a Facebook?”

“Is he one of  _those?_ ”

Kurt makes a face.

“One of what?”

“You know, those… Hipster-type people. The ones who think Facebook is too mainstream.”

Kurt thinks of the first time he ever saw Blaine—with a beard, in his glasses, and chuckles.

“He is kind of a hipster, but no, he just… Isn’t really big on the internet,” Kurt flubs. In all honesty, he has no  _idea_  if Blaine has a Facebook, but even if he did, it’s not like they could be friends. Oh god, how fast would people be able to put the pieces together if they were? Kurt doesn’t even want to think about it.

“Can’t you ask him for a picture?”

“But not a dirty one.”

“Mercedes!” Kurt gasps, eyes wide, absolutely astonished.

“What? I don’t wannabe seeing anything, thank you very much.”

“What makes you think that  _I’ve_  seen anything?” Kurt cries, face going hot.

“Okay, okay, enough,” Rachel says, fluttering her hands about as if that will somehow return order to their discussion. Kurt is a little surprised that she isn’t joining Mercedes in teasing him, but when Rachel Berry is on a mission, she is  _on a mission_. “You’ll just have to describe him to us, then.” Rachel stares at Kurt, imploringly.

“Uh, Rach, I think that’s  _a little_ —“

“Don’t you want to know what he looks like?” Rachel asks Mercedes.

“Well, yeah, but—“

“Until Kurt procures a picture, we’ll just have to rely on a description.”

Kurt thinks they’ll have to rely on that for, well, an indefinite period of time, since he can’t exactly get a picture of Blaine.

“I don’t see why Kurt can’t just ask him to text him a picture, it’s not that big of a deal,” Mercedes points out.

“I guess that’s true,” Rachel muses, and then looks at Kurt again with her wide, waiting eyes.

“Um, he… He can’t,” Kurt says, desperately trying to think of a reason as to  _why_. “His phone doesn’t have a camera.” It takes a lot of Kurt’s mental capacity not to end what needs to be a statement with a question mark, but somehow, he manages. Maybe he’s a better liar than he gives himself credit for.

Mercedes arches an eyebrow, and Rachel looks far from convinced.

“He doesn’t use Facebook, his phone doesn’t have a camera. Where is he from, the Stone Age?” Rachel asks, and Kurt nearly laughs— _not quite, but he’s definitely from a different era_.

“Kurt, honey, you can tell us the truth, you know.” Mercedes looks him straight in the eye. “Is he ugly?”

“Mercedes!” Rachel gasps.

“What? This boy has no Facebook, he can’t send a photo. I’m just saying, maybe Kurt’s trying to hide something.”

 _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit_.

“That doesn’t mean he’s  _ugly_. Maybe he’s… Oh! What if he’s  _famous?_  Kurt does go to school in California, after all.” Her eyes brighten. “Kurt.” Rachel seizes his arm. “Is he famous? You have to tell me if he’s famous?” Her grip tightens just enough that it’s actually a little painful.

“Ack,  _no_ —“ he tugs his arm free, “He’s not famous, and he’s not  _ugly_ —“ Kurt shoots a rather offended glare at Mercedes, who shrugs, “—he just has very frugal parents, and he really doesn’t have a Facebook, okay?”

Mercedes and Rachel are silent for a moment, before they share a look that Kurt knows only means more trouble.

“We’re going to need to see your phone,” Rachel announces, holding out her hand.

“ _What?_ ”

“Kurt, we’re sure you’re telling the truth, but, excuse us for being a little doubtful. We just need some proof of…” Mercedes pauses, lips snapping shut as if her mind finally caught up with what her mouth was about to say and realized that it definitely  _shouldn’t_  be said. But Kurt’s not stupid—he can read his friends’s glances, can hear the words in their silence.

 _We just need some proof of his existence_.

They don’t think Blaine is real, and that  _hurts_. Do they really think Kurt would make something like that  _up?_

He swallows it all down, glancing away as he reaches for his bag (and his phone) and not saying a word.

“Let me just…” Kurt shakes his phone around, and starts to go through it, wanting to make sure there isn’t anything in the last  _week_  of messages that would reveal the true nature of his and Blaine’s relationship.

“Kurt…” Rachel starts, sounding apologetic, but he ignores her. If they want proof that he has a boyfriend, he will  _give_  them proof.

The sentimental side of him hates deleting any of the messages or conversations that him and Blaine have had, but the pragmatic part of him knows that it’s necessary. If anyone were to get a hold of his phone, it could lead to Blaine possibly getting into trouble (even though they aren’t breaking  _any_  rules—Kurt made sure of that).

“All right…” Kurt holds out his phone, and Rachel and Mercedes seem a little shocked by his compliance, but they take it and start to look through it as Kurt sits by with his wounded pride.

Rachel points at something on the screen, and both her and Mercedes coo almost in unison, and Kurt’s composure falters as his embarrassment shows through. After all, those texts are supposed to be private.

“ _I really hope that you get to spend a summer in California at some point_ ,” Rachel reads. “ _Why is that?_ ” She continues in a different voice, and then reverts back to the first. “ _Because there’s nothing like it, from my experience. There are so many things to do and see. There aren’t words for it._ ” She pauses, a smile starting to form on her lips before she goes to finish reading the segment of conversation. “ _Like what?_ ”

“ _Stick around one summer, and I’ll show you_ ,” Mercedes finish, and both of the girls look at Kurt over his phone, no doubt to see him the brightest shade of pink he’s ever been in his life.

“Oh my  _god_ , Kurt.” Rachel presses her hand to her mouth.

“He’s already thinking of  _future_  summers with you. That is  _huge_ ,” Mercedes says with a grin, and Kurt plays with the comforter.

He’d kind of taken away the same meaning too, but he also hadn’t really let himself hope too much. Blaine could have just been saying that, could have meant as something less than what they are now. Kurt wouldn’t let himself believe that Blaine could be thinking that long term, it just… Didn’t seem likely.

But if Rachel and Mercedes see it, too, then… Maybe…

When he glances back over, Rachel is typing furiously at his phone, and Kurt’s eyes widen in alarm.

“What are you doing?!” He shrieks, throwing himself across the bed to try and grab his phone back, but Mercedes and Rachel are working together against him—Mercedes holds him back, and Rachel continues to text.

“My friendly duty,” Rachel announces, and taps the screen one more time with finality. Kurt’s stomach drops in  _dread_. Blaine knows that Kurt is having a sleepover with his girls, but Kurt hadn’t exactly told him that he planned to fill them in on things. Now he’s completely ambushed!

Once the text is sent, Kurt manages to snag his phone back, but it’s too late. The damage is done. He stares at the screen with growing apprehension, waiting and waiting and waiting, eyes flicking over Rachel’s message under his name.

 **Kurt:**  
    Hello Blaine. This is Kurt’s Best Friends, Rachel and Mercedes. I’m sure it is quite lovely to meet you, even if Kurt is unable to provide us with a picture at this time. You should know that we love Kurt very much, and would go to the ends of the earth for him. You had better treat him right. He deserves it.

The message is touching, of course, and Kurt shoots them a look that both conveys his gratitude and absolute annoyance.

Then his phone buzzes in his hand.

 **Blaine:**  
    It’s my pleasure, Rachel and Mercedes. I have heard so much about the both of you.  
    I’m not very photogenic, so that’s probably for the best. :)  
    You’re absolutely right.  
    He does.  
    I hope I don’t disappoint you.  
    But more importantly, I hope that I don’t disappoint him.

“What?” Rachel asks, probably in response to whatever look has just taken over Kurt’s face. He feels like he’s about to start crying in the best possibly way, and maybe also laughing. Quite possibly both. “Kurt,  _what?_ ” She insists, and Kurt folds his lips together before holding up the phone for both of them to read.

“Oh, honey…” Mercedes murmurs, looking genuinely happy for him—Rachel, too. At least, for a moment.

“Wait,  _he’s_  heard so much about  _us?_  And this is our first time hearing about  _him_?” Rachel asks indignantly, and Mercedes rolls her eyes and tries to relay to her that that’s a  _good_  thing, that Kurt talks about them, brags about them, says how wonderful they both are.

Kurt pulls his phone back close to him, a few quiet, disbelieving sounds that are kind of like laughs escaping him as his fingers move across the screen.

 **Kurt:**  
    You won’t.

How could Blaine  _ever_  disappoint him?

 **Kurt:**  
    And I’m sorry for that.  
    I didn’t know they were going to ambush you.

 _They didn’t think you were real_ , Kurt wants to tell him.  _They thought I made you up_. He’s sure that whatever Blaine would say would fill up the hole in him that his friends skepticism in his having a boyfriend melon-balled out, a place that even their wanting the best for him could only temporarily bandage but not heal completely.  _Later_ , he decides, not wanting to dwell on it too much right in that moment. After all, it’s been months since he’s seen them, and he doesn’t want to weigh down their reunion sleepover with drama.

(Or tarnish what Blaine just said by whining at him like a child seeking solace).

 **Blaine:**  
    Kurt, you have nothing to apologize for.  
    They’re your friends.  
    It makes me happy to know you have people who cherish you so much.

 _Do you cherish me, too?_  Kurt wonders, but doesn’t have the guts to put into words (or, in this case, text).

“As cute as it to watch you swooning over your phone, this is supposed to be a girl’s night,” Mercedes reminds him, and Kurt lifts his eyes to glance sheepishly at her. “Say goodnight to your boy and put that thing away.”

*

 **To:**  kurthummel@gmail.com   
 **From:**  blaine.anderson@gmail.com   
 **Subject:**  Sunsets

Dear Kurt,

I know I text you a picture of the sunset basically every day, but I went to the beach today with an actual camera and took some real pictures.

(Yes, I have a real camera, I am  _that_  old, and no, pictures taken on phones are not  _real_  pictures).

Now I’m no photographer, but some of them came out pretty well. I had to share them, knowing how much you love sunsets.

Blaine

**18 Attachments**

*

 **To:**  blaine.anderson@gmail.com   
 **From:**  kurthummel@gmail.com   
 **Subject:**  Ohio isn’t ALL bad

Dear Blaine,

I know I complain about Ohio basically always, and while there is little that could persuade me to ever think of this place as livable, there are some parts of it that I can’t completely hate (my family and friends, for one, but you already know about those things).

There’s this privately run ice cream parlor that I’ve been going to since I was little, and while the teenagers that work there are primitive cavemen, their strawberry ice cream is worth going there for. Strawberry ice cream isn’t even my  _favorite_ , but it is just so damn good.

There’s also a fair every summer, which is very cheesy and hokey but that Dad and Carole like to go to for the farmer’s market it hosts, and that Finn likes to go to for the rides. I haven’t been in years, but I went with them this year, and had a surprising amount of fun. I mean, I didn’t go anywhere near the rides (they were  _filthy_  and looked like they might fall apart if a feather landed on them), but the food was actually really delicious, and Finn even talked me into playing a few of the midway games.

I hope you like cheaply made carnival stuffed animals, because I won one and it’s absolutely making the trip back to California with me.

I can think of no more deserving person to give it a home than you.

Needing to disinfect my hands for days,

Kurt

P.S. The pictures you sent me were lovely. I printed one out and tucked it into the mirror of my vanity. We’ll have to take that dinosaur of yours to get developed when I get back. I’d love to put those copies up in my dorm next semester. :)

*

 **Kurt:**  
    [picture message]  
    I think he looks like a Claude.

 **Blaine:**  
    When I see a stuffed purple octopus, Claude is the only name I can think of.

 **Kurt:**  
    You just ended a sentence in a preposition.  
    Aren’t you an English professor?

 **Blaine:**  
    Even English professor’s are allowed their colloquial language use.

 **Kurt:**  
    [picture message]  
    Claude doesn’t approve.

 **Blaine:**  
    Could you be more adorable?

*

“Happy Fourth of July!”

“Hello to you, too. Happy Fourth of July, Kurt.”

“So what have you been up to today?”

“Not a whole lot. I’m going to meet some friends for drinks in about an hour.”

“Oh? No fireworks?”

“Not sure. We might be able to see them from the restaurant we’ll be at, but I can’t say for sure. What about you?”

“We’re having a barbecue. Well, had, I guess. It’s about over now. Once the fireworks are over, everyone will pretty much head home.”

“Are the fireworks going on  _right now?_ ”

“What? Oh, no. They’ll start soon, though. I just… Wanted to call you while everyone else was distracted.”

“Well, I don’t want to keep you from your party.”

“You aren’t—I called you, remember?”

“That’s true.”

“Unless you’re busy? Sorry, I should have texted you first, I just—“

“ _Kurt_. It’s fine. I’m not busy, although I should probably get ready soon.”

“Do you know what you’re going to wear?”

“No clue. It’s a shame you aren’t here to help me.”

“As flattering as that is, I know perfectly well that you know how to dress yourself, even if some of your fashion choices are a little questionable.”

“Oh, I see how it is. Now that we’re dating, the claws are coming out, huh? You were only nice to me before to butter me up, is that it?”

“Oh  _drat_ , you have discovered my nefarious plan. Unfortunately, you’ve already fallen for it.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Just don’t dress  _too_  nice.”

“Did Kurt Hummel just tell me not to put my best effort forward? Or has another Kurt called me and I’ve made some horrible mistake?”

“Shut up, you dork. I—oh no, they’ve found me. I have to go.”

“Kurt?”

“ _Kurt, who are you on the phone with? Ohmygod, is that Blaine?! Let me talk to him!_ ”

“I’ll talk to you later, bye!”

*

“So how are things with your lover boy?” Mercedes ask as they shuffle through the row of movie theater seats, heading towards the center.

“ _Ugh_ ,” Kurt groans, letting his head fall forward for a moment before he flops into a seat. “I mean, they’re  _good_ , but long distance relationships just  _suck_.” Especially when the relationship itself had been so new when it had all started. “And we’re only a little over halfway there.”

Mercedes frowns at him, petting up and down his arm in a comforting way, and he gives her a weak smile in return.

Aside from the less-than-ideal long distance situation, though, things have actually been surprisingly good. Blaine and him are texting almost constantly, unless Blaine is teaching, and sometimes even then he can manage a few gems (“A student in this class is wearing the most hideous blazer I have ever seen. Sending you a pic.”). They talk on the phone at least once a day, even if it’s only for a few minutes, and Blaine seems to love sending him emails because Kurt gets at least one or two a week, even when he doesn’t respond as fast as he should—apparently, that’s not a deterrent to Blaine. They’ve even Skyped a few times, although it had been kind of awkward and they’d both been on edge the entire time, spooked by the very idea that a member of Kurt’s family could walk in at any time.

It’s almost as if Blaine had read Kurt’s mind and seen all of his doubts, and was making an effort to ease them. There are still times, usually late at night, when they still come back to trouble Kurt, but it’s kind of insane how easy texting a heart to Blaine and getting one in return can quiet them.

“You’ll make it. Just remember that Blaine is obviously super into you. I mean, how many college boys would enter a long distance relationship right before summer?” The look she gives him is supposed to be reassuring, like she’s trying to imprint on him how much of a rare treasure Blaine is (not that Kurt doesn’t already  _know_  that). But it just makes him feel uneasy. After all, Blaine isn’t exactly a college boy…

“Did I miss the previews?” Rachel asks as she seems to suddenly materialize on his other side, causing both of them to jump in their seats.

“No, just Kurt’s relationship problems.”

“ _Mercedes_.”

“Ooh, relationship problems.” Rachel turns her full attention to him, eyes hungry in a way that he’s familiar with but that still kind of makes him feel like a lion is about to pounce on him. “You know, I am  _great_  at solving relationships,” Rachel tells them, pressing a hand to her heart, and Kurt and Mercedes share a look—this time, Rachel actually catches it. “Hey! I am.”

“You cheated on a boyfriend to get back at him,” Kurt replies, flatly.

“That was merely a lapse in judgement!”

“You tripped a guy you were dating the day before an audition because you saw him as competition.”

“That wasn’t on purpose, my foot just  _happened_ —“

“You told a guy that you were a cheerleader in high school because he used to be a jock.”

“Well you had a crush on your step-brother!”

“ _Shhhhhh!_ ” A guy from three rows in front of them hisses, and Kurt glares.

“I’m sorry we’re talking through the pre-preview trivia,” Kurt bites back, and then feels Mercedes’s hand on his shoulder.

“How I manage to take you two anywhere, I’ll never know.” She rolls her eyes. “What Rachel is badly trying to say—“

“Hey!”

“—is that we’re your friends, and we’ll try to help if we can.” Mercedes gives him a reassuring smile.

“Thanks, ‘Cedes. Although I don’t think there’s a lot either of you can do for me missing Blaine. That just comes with the long distance relationship territory.” Kurt moodily eats a handful of popcorn.

“We can take your mind off him,” Mercedes says, giving his arm a playful shake. “Well, as best as we can. I understand we aren’t a  _perfect_  substitution.”

“Oh, hush. You girls are flawless,” Kurt rebukes, but they’re also right. As much as Kurt can cuddle with them, and hug them, it’s not the same—after all, there’s a  _reason_  he’s gay, and a big part of that comes from the fact that physical affection from girls just doesn’t make his heart all a-flutter. Plus, he can’t exactly kiss them.  _Really_  kiss them. Even if they were willing, again, the whole  _they’re not boys_  thing.

The whole  _they’re not_ ** _Blaine_**  thing.

God, he misses kissing Blaine. And hugging Blaine. And brushing his arm against Blaine’s. And just  _being near_  Blaine.

“What about phone sex?” Rachel suggests out of the silence, and Kurt nearly chokes on a piece of popcorn. Once he’s sure it’s headed into his stomach and not his  _lungs_ , he gives Rachel the most incredulous look he can muster (which isn’t at all difficult, given the question).

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Did that  _really_  just come out of Rachel Berry’s mouth?

“Have you and Blaine tried phone sex?” She asks it so plainly, without any hint of embarrassment, despite the fact that Kurt’s face has gotten so hot he feels like steam might start bursting out of him.

“We haven’t even had  _real_  sex,” Kurt hisses, tucking his head closer to her and looking fervently around, like he’s suddenly going to find the entire world tucked into this movie theater and staring at him. “What makes you think that I would do  _that?_ ”

Rachel’s look turns pitying, but Kurt can’t quite tell if the look is directed at him or not.

“It’s actually a  _lot_  easier than any real sort of intimacy. You don’t have to worry about anyone seeing you naked, or touching you. It’s just words,” she informs him, matter-of-factly. “It can really help with missing a significant other, especially physically. It helps you feel closer to them. In fact, when Finn and I—“

Kurt slaps a hand over her mouth.

“For the love of  _god_ , Rachel Berry, please do not say anything else about whatever sort of intimacy has ever occurred between you and my brother,” Kurt rambles, and her eyebrows furrow. But he doesn’t remove his hand until she nods in ascent, and his shoulders sag once he’s back in his own space.

“I can’t even  _talk_  about sex,” Kurt mutters, voice dropping to a whisper on  _sex_  as his face continues to heat up. “What makes you think I could ever…” Kurt cringes, shaking his head.

“I’m not suggesting you do anything you’re uncomfortable with, Kurt,” Rachel says, soothingly. “But you miss Blaine, and it was just a suggestion. I think it could really help.”

Yeah, help Kurt  _die from embarrassment_.

*

 **Kurt:**  
    It’s finally August. Thank god.

 **Blaine:**  
    Aw, Kurt.  
    I didn’t know you were so anxious for classes to start again.  
    I always knew you were a good student.

 **Kurt:**  
    Ha ha.  
    Very funny.

 **Blaine:**  
    I try.

 **Kurt:**  
    I just can’t wait to see you again.  
    I miss you.  
    And Ohio sucks.

 **Blaine:**  
    I miss you, too.  
    And I thought Ohio wasn’t all bad?

 **Kurt:**  
    You aren’t in it, therefore it still sucks.

 **Blaine:**  
    Aw, I’m flattered.  
    You’ll see me soon.  
    Only a few more weeks.

 **Kurt:**  
    I wish you could pick me up from the airport. :(

 **Blaine:**  
    That eager, huh?

 **Kurt:**  
    I just can’t wait to kiss you.

 **Blaine:**  
    Oh?

 **Kurt:**  
    I miss kissing you.  
    I’m going to kiss you until your mouth falls off.

 **Blaine:**  
    That sounds a little counterproductive to the whole kissing thing.  
    Pretty sure my mouth is a requirement.

 **Kurt:**  
    It’s called a hyperbole, Blaine.

 **Blaine:**  
    It’s called sarcasm, Kurt.  
    But I’m looking forward to kissing you again, too.

 **Kurt:**  
    You are?

 **Blaine:**  
    Of course I am.  
    If I’d known I’d miss it this much, I would have kissed you a lot more before you left.

 **Kurt:**  
    I wish you would have.  
    Maybe then I’d remember it better.

 **Blaine:**  
    I’ll be happy to remind you when you get back. ;)

*

Kurt stares at the winky face and thinks,  _I hate you Rachel Berry_.

It’s not like he’s really been  _thinking_  about the phone sex thing—okay, well, no, that’s a lie, he  _has_  been thinking about it, but more in a mortified sort of way than a  _considering_  one. But the fact is that he’s still been thinking about it, so it’s still sitting there at the back of his mind rather than tucked safely away into a mental drawer and locked away from any present and future thoughts.

The fact is that now, as he stares at the winky face at the end of Blaine’s text message, he can’t help but think,  _Maybe that’s something Blaine wants. Maybe that’s something Blaine_ ** _expects_** _._

Kurt remembers the night of his birthday, the way their innocent kissing had progressed… It seems so long ago now that he can’t recall all of the specific sensations, but he knows he was hard. He knows  _Blaine_  was hard. And he’s pretty sure that, if he hadn’t stopped them, that more would have happened. But Kurt had stopped them, because… Well, because he’d been terrified. He doesn’t know the first thing about sex, and the idea of revealing that to Blaine…

Kurt’s not sure he’d be able to do it.

But Blaine is obviously a grown man. An attractive, funny, intelligent,  _perfect_  grown man, and the idea that he’d be anything close to a virgin is almost laughable. Almost. Instead, it kind of just makes Kurt feel a little sick. Blaine has  _been with_  other men. Blaine has  _experience_.

Kurt doesn’t have either of those things.

Oh god, how is he ever going to compete with what Blaine is no doubt used to?

His heart is pounding as he stares down at his phone, and his mortification turns into desperate consideration. Rachel had said that it wasn’t that hard. That it was just talking. That it was easier than real sex because it doesn’t involve Blaine seeing him, or touching him.

Not that the idea of Blaine touching him is a  _bad_  thing, it just might be… A little too much for Kurt to handle.

 _I can do this_ , he thinks, even though his hands are shaking slightly as they tap against his keyboard.  _I have to do this_.

 **Kurt:**  
    Are you busy right now?

 **Blaine:**  
    I’m reading, but otherwise, no. Why?

 **Kurt:**  
    Is it okay if I call?

It feels like it’s been awhile since Kurt has felt the need to ask for permission to call Blaine, but in this case, he doesn’t want to run the risk of being interrupted.

 **Blaine:**  
    Of course.  
    It’s always okay for you to call.  
    You know that. :P

Kurt stands on weak legs and is sure to lock his door, and his heart is beating so hard that he’s sure he can  _hear_  it. It’s an unnecessary precaution, he’s sure—it’s late, hardly past midnight, and it’s doubtful that his dad or Carole are even awake and therefore not likely to come barging into his room. Still, better safe than endlessly humiliated for eternity.

Settling back on his bed, he wonders if he should do the prep work  _now_. Removing clothes sounds like it would be really inconvenient during a phone call.

Then he realizes that he’s overthinking it, and settles on just grabbing the box of baby wipes and lotion he keeps in the second drawer of his nightstand. The sight of it just sitting on his bed just ends up making him feel more nervous, so he covers them with a pillow, takes a deep breath, and calls Blaine.

“Hey,” Blaine greets warmly down the phone, a sound that normally calms Kurt down but currently just makes him more antsy.

“Hi.” Kurt shifts on his bed, crossing his ankles, uncrossing them, and then deciding that too many lights are on for… For what he’s about to do. He works on turning them off until only his side table lamp remains.

“I’m surprised you decided to call. It’s late there, and I know how you are about your beauty sleep.”

“Beauty sleep is important,” Kurt responds, distractedly, wondering if he should get under his duvet or not.

“I’m pretty sure if you get much more beauty sleep, people will go blind just by looking at you.”

He’ll get under. Then he can just ruck it down a little bit. That will work.

“What? No berating at my cheesiness that I’m pretty sure you love?”

He might get too warm, though. Maybe on top of the duvet would be better.

“Kurt?”

“Huh?” Oh god, his entire mouth is dry.

“Are you okay? You’re being kind of quiet.” Blaine sounds concerned, and Kurt forces himself to  _breathe, breathe, calm down_.

“I’m fine.”  _I just feel like I’m about to throw up my entire chest cavity over my bedding_.

Which he decides he’ll fold down. That will work.

“Are you sure?” Blaine prods lightly.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just… Distracted.”

“Oh.” Blaine pauses. “You can call me back whenever you finish what you’re doing. I probably won’t be going to bed for a few hours, although you probably should be.”

If Blaine was more comfortable with their age difference, Kurt might make a joke about Blaine not being his dad, but he doesn’t. Besides, comparing your boyfriend to your dad right before attempting to initiate phone sex probably isn’t the best idea.

“No, no, I’m not doing anything—“  _Except figuring out the best possible set up for masturbating with the intent of you listening_ , “—just thinking.” Kurt’s voice squeaks a little bit, and he hates himself for it.

This is the part where Blaine could make it just that much easier by asking Kurt what he’s thinking about that’s got him so distracted, because Kurt has no idea how else to get this whole thing off the ground. 

And maybe there is some amount of mind-reading in their relationship, because Blaine does just that.

“About?”

Kurt grips his phone so tightly that he’s surprised the force doesn’t shoot it out of his hand like a bar of soap.

“…you.” Okay, not exactly his original plan, but it’s a start. Kurt can work up to this.

There’s a few moments of silence, and Kurt  _really_  hopes that Blaine heard him, because as innocent as a statement as it was, he’s not sure he could make it again.

“Oh really?” Blaine sounds a little intrigued, and it’s enough to give Kurt the courage to keep going, inch by inch. “What about me?”

“The way you kissed me on my birthday.” Kurt’s voice gets a little quieter, a little breathy, and while he maybe hadn’t been thinking about it too much before—preoccupied as he was with what he’s actually  _doing_ —he does think about it, now. He wishes the memory were closer, that he could recall the exact way it felt to have Blaine’s tongue stroking through his mouth, but even the idea of it has his skin feeling hot in a very different kind of flush. “I’ve never been kissed like that before.”

“Did it…” Blaine clears his throat. “I hope it lived up to your expectations.”

“It surpassed them,” Kurt answers, closing his eyes. “And the way you kissed my jaw, and down my neck… I never knew kisses could feel like that. That they could feel so good.” Kurt runs his fingernails along his neck, as if he might be able to recreate the sensation, but it doesn’t even come close.

This… Isn’t so bad. Just remembering the way Blaine had made him felt, and telling him, and so far Blaine doesn’t seem  _against_  it. Kurt breathes out slowly, and forces himself to relax. He’s gotten off to these memories many times over the last two months. This time doesn’t have to be any different.

“I like making you feel good, baby.” Blaine’s voice sounds fuller, somehow, and the sound of it, the little endearment on the end, pull Kurt out of his memories. “I  _want_  to make you feel good.”

“…how?” Kurt ventures, nervously, but knowing that he has to keep this going. They’re just getting started. He can’t turn back now.

Blaine groans in what sounds like frustration down the line, and where Kurt had hardly been at the beginnings of hard before, the sound seems to encourage him.

“Tell me?” Kurt pleads softly, still feeling nervous but now feeling that not knowing would be so, so much worse.

“Kurt…” Blaine breathes, and Kurt’s hand curls in the neck of his shirt as he waits. “I want to see your skin,” Blaine finally says, and Kurt’s eyes widen. “I want to peel all those layers you hide under back and see what the skin underneath looks like. To run my fingers over it, my lips, my teeth, my tongue.”

Kurt’s own fingers trail down over the fabric of his shirt until they rest over his stomach, his breath shaking out of him.

“I want to find the places where you’re most sensitive, and give them all my attention.”

God, Kurt is  _so_  hard already, and Blaine has hardly said anything. He wants to touch himself, but stops, certain that it has to do with the fact that it’s too soon and not because he knows Blaine will be listening to him.

“After watching your legs in those tight pants for so many months, god, I want to touch them. I want to run my hands up your thighs. I want to feel them wrapped around me. I want to see if they’re as strong as they look.”

“ _Blaine_ —“ Kurt chokes out, grabbing at his shirt and finding it hard to breathe.

“Are you touching yourself, Kurt?” Blaine asks, his voice deep and dark and alluring, and Kurt fumbles beside him, flipping the privacy pillow off the bed before he manages to get a mess of lotion in his hand. There isn’t even a second of thought as Kurt shoves his hand beneath his waistband, under his pajama pants, under his briefs, until he’s wrapping a hand around his erect cock and letting out a little cry of relief.

“I—“ Kurt’s breath stutters out of him as he pumps his hand up and down, slower than he wants to, but wanting to make this last. Blaine makes a noise, and Kurt imagines that he’s touching himself, too. Oh god, he’s going to hear what Blaine sounds like when he masturbates—when he  _comes_. “Oh  _god_.”

“Tell me.” Blaine breathes harshly down the phone, and Kurt can hear the exertion in his voice. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Good, so good, I—“ Kurt arches his back and pushes up into his own hand, imagining how thousands of miles away, Blaine is doing the same thing. And Kurt realizes that he wants to  _know_  about it. “I want to know,” he babbles, hoping that Blaine will understand him.

“I wish it was you,” Blaine grunts, and pleasure ripples down Kurt’s spine. “I want to touch you, Kurt, but  _god_ , I want you to touch me… Want to feel your soft hands on my cock. Want to show you just how I like it. Want you to make me come.” The sound Blaine makes then is so guttural and animalistic, and Kurt can feel his orgasm, right there, so close, barreling towards him like a train and yet still not going fast enough.

“I want to make you come,” Kurt murmurs. “Want you to come, want you to come so bad,” he repeats, over and over, like he’s encouraging himself more than he is Blaine. Anything Blaine says after that is drowned out by the sound of Kurt finally pushing past his breaking point, pleasure seeming to radiate through him before it all crashes together and he comes, just holding back the shout he so desperately wants to cry out. Some part of him, thankfully, seems to have remembered where he is and who is down the hall.

Once the blood has stopped rushing past his ears, he can hear Blaine breathing through the phone—heavy, like he just ran a marathon. And Kurt realizes that… Blaine came. And Kurt came. And  _jesus christ_ , they just had  _phone sex_. Kurt just had  _phone sex_.

And it was absolutely terrifying, but also kind of great.

Kurt lets out a little giggle without really meaning to, and nearly presses his free hand to his face before he remembers what it’s covered in.

“What are you laughing at?” Blaine’s voice is positively languid. It pulls at something different in Kurt, and makes him wish that there wasn’t so much distance all of a sudden, even if the distance is part of the reason he initiated the phone sex in the first place. Kurt just wants to be able to roll on his side and have Blaine right there, within arm’s distance, a warm body that he can curl up against despite how overheated he feels.

“Nothing.” Kurt’s own voice is slightly slurred in the aftermath, and it’s a little embarrassing, making him press his lips together as he reaches for a few baby wipes to clean himself up with. “Just…” Kurt smiles just a bit. Just that he just had phone sex with his hot, older boyfriend for the first time.

“Just,” Blaine repeats. “Just you are… Full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“I guess so,” Kurt responds in awe, staring up at his ceiling in surprise. “Is that a good thing?”

“Uh… I’d say that’s a  _very_  good thing.”


End file.
